


These Fires Endure

by daymarket



Series: Firesverse [1]
Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra, Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/M, Family, Gaang, Gen, Parenthood, Post-Finale, Post-Sozin's Comet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2014-01-08
Packaged: 2018-01-05 08:14:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 50,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1091644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daymarket/pseuds/daymarket
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She’s the Fire Nation princess. She’s a nonbender. The two were never meant to be true at the same time, but with her family around her, anything is possible.</p><p>Or: The times are changing and they're all getting older, but they'll always be together. An exploration of parenthood, friendship, and family, seen through the eyes of the extended Gaang.</p><p>[Written pre-season 3, has been horribly jossed since.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Impressions (Katara)

**Author's Note:**

> 09/03/14 Note:
> 
> So, a large chunk of this was utterly and completely jossed by s3 of Korra, particularly by the appearance of Sui. Alas! Oh well. It still functions as a fond headcanon for me, and parts of it still work nicely as slice-of-life-stories. Minus some minor age shenanigans, this is canon-compliant with what we know up to season 2 of Korra and the comics _The Promise_ and _The Search_ , at least, which is when I wrote it. 
> 
> I wanted to explore 1) how the Fire Nation and family would handle having a nonbender at its helm, and 2) the Gaang post-finale. This started out focusing fairly strongly on Ursa and her family, but it's branched out a lot more to explore each individual POV character and their motivations/lives/relationships. Several particular chapters that can be read as stand-alones: Kiyi (4), Aang (5), Kya (10), Toph (11), Bumi (13), and Sokka (14). However, the story as a whole traces Ursa's life, albeit seen through the eyes of other characters.

_Book I: Family_

_Chapter I: First Impressions (Katara)_

((()))

The labor is long and painful, and by the time the baby is finally born, Mai's rain of curses on Zuko, pregnancy, and children in general have dwindled to boneless whimpers of pain. There's a vulnerability on the Fire Lady's face that Katara's never seen before, and she hurries to stop the bleeding before it gets worse. Mai's eyes flutter shut after a while, and it's only her shallow breathing that tells Katara that she's still alive.

As Katara works, the newborn baby announces its indignation at the arrival with a wordless wail. Katara hands the child to the care of her assistants as she heals Mai, but Mai fights her way out of her stupor at the sound of her child's cry. "How is it?" Mai says, struggling to sit up. "I can hear crying, why is it crying—"

"Hold still!" Katara orders, pushing her back onto the covers. Mai struggles weakly, but after more than a full day of labor, there's not much strength left in her. "The baby's crying because it's healthy," Katara says, making her voice as soothing as possible. "And you're not at this point, so you have to stay still until I'm done here."

Mai mutters something under her breath, and her fingers tap restlessly on the covers. Katara thinks that it's a good thing there's no room for knives under a birthing robe, not that Mai has much energy to aim accurately at this point. As she works, the baby's wails eventually die to small, sleepy gurgles as the attendants clean it and swaddle it in a blanket.

When she finally stands up, Mai appears to be getting some much-needed sleep. Katara washes her hands and takes the baby from the attendant, peering down at the small bundle. "It's a girl," the attendant whispers to her.

"I can hear you talking," Mai says hoarsely, startling them all.

Katara smiles reassuringly at Mai, who gives her a bloodshot glare in return. "She's a beautiful girl," Katara says as she places the baby carefully in Mai's arms. "Healthy as an ostrich horse."

"She better be, after all that trouble," Mai mutters weakly, but there's no true venom in her voice as she gazes down at her daughter. There's a moment of silence, and then Mai runs a gentle finger down the baby's cheeks. "Shh," Mai says in a soft, wondering voice. "I'm here. Hey, little one."

There's a tenderness to her voice that Katara only ever hears when she's talking to Zuko. Katara smiles down at mother and child, the two of them lost in their own little world. Quietly, she bundles up her midwife supplies and tactfully leaves the room, ushering the assistants out with her. Mai doesn't look up as she leaves, still murmuring quietly to the sleepy child.

Katara doesn't make it two steps down the hallway before Zuko descends upon her like a wrathful fire god, his eyes wild. He looks as if he's been pacing out in the corridor for the entire labor, which he probably has. "How did it go?" he demands, and there's a definite hint of frenzy in his voice. "She was yelling for hours about how she hated me, and then she stopped yelling for a long time, and then there was crying, and then—"

Fatherhood's going to be _great_ for him, Katara thinks as she surveys Zuko. It's been barely hours since his daughter was born, and he's already a mess. He clearly hasn't slept, and she doubts that he's eaten, either. His eyes—well, his good one, at least—is wide with terror, and his hair, loose from its formal topknot, is even more disarrayed than usual as if he's been running his fingers through it repeatedly. She places a hand on his shoulder. "Relax," she says, using her best "placating the frantic father" voice. "The birth wasn't an easy one, but Mai's fine now. The baby's a healthy girl." She gives him a smile that's meant to reassure. "You asked for the best midwife, and you got me. Of course everything's all right."

He looks down at her, blinking rapidly. "They're really all right?" he says at last, his voice surprisingly small.

"Yes," Katara sighs. She pushes him in the direction of the door. "Go on. Talk to her."

Zuko takes a deep breath. His chin goes up, and she can almost see him mentally donning the Fire Lord persona as he pushes open the door. The door swings closed behind him, and Katara—even though she really shouldn't, but she can't resist—listens against the door for a few moments.

There's no yelling from mother, father, or child. Smiling to herself, Katara heads back to the guest quarters to wash up.

((()))

The announcements go out the next morning: bright, joyful proclamations of a festival to celebrate the birth of Fire Princess Ursa, the future of the Fire Nation. Despite that, or because of that, Katara doesn't see Zuko again until the afternoon. He looks up at her and smiles in his awkward way as she enters his office. He's dressed in his formal Fire Lord robes, looking exhausted but dazedly happy. "Well?" she asks, arching an eyebrow.

He laughs, a soft raspy sound. "They're both fine. Ursa stopped crying after a little while. And Mai doesn't hate me."

"Never thought she would," Katara says breezily. "Trust me, I've said far worse when I was giving birth to Bumi and Kya. It's sort of on par for the course. Still married to Aang, you'll note."

"I can't believe you had two," Zuko says, shaking his head. "Mai said that if we wanted another child, I could be the one to give birth." He looks at her, the levity fading from his face. "Is she really all right?"

Katara looks at him, her expression turning equally serious. "I don't think Mai would survive another child," she says, wanting to press the point home. "This labor was very hard for her, Zuko. If I hadn't been there…"

She can see Zuko freeze for a moment, running the angles and possibilities through his head. He's become better at planning since their early travels together, part and parcel of becoming Fire Lord. Whatever the sum of the calculations, he eventually nods, his jaw setting in determination. "We don't need another child," he says, his voice firm. "Ursa will be good enough for ten."

Katara smiles at him. "That's sweet."

He gives a half-shrug, a flush of color creeping into his cheeks. "It's true."

She pats on him on the shoulder. "Well, just wait until they start growing up," she says wryly. "It only gets harder from here, you know." She shifts a case of scrolls carefully out of the way and sits down on the edge of his desk. "You sound ready for the job, though." He doesn't say anything for a moment, and she leans forward, concerned. "Zuko? What's wrong?"

He looks down. "I want to be," he says at last, his voice quiet. "I just—my family doesn't really have a history of being great fathers, you know?" He raises his head, but his gaze is suddenly awkward, sliding away from her face. "I mean, there's Fa—Ozai—and you can see how Azula and I turned out. Grandfather Azulon wasn't exactly a paragon of fatherhood or grandfatherhood, and then Sozin before him..." His eyes flash to her face, and there's the terror back again, bone-deep. "What if I hurt her? I would never burn her, but what if I get angry or she hates me or she runs away or—"

She places a finger across his lips, stopping his tirade. He almost goes cross-eyed trying to track her finger. "Hey," Katara says firmly. "You are not your father. If nothing else over these past eight years, you've established that and more. And you've learned from him and all his mistakes. Right?" she asks. He nods slowly as if he's processing her words. She waits a moment before continuing, gentling her voice. "I know you, Zuko," she says. "You protect those you care about, and you never, ever give up. You'll stand by Ursa just as you've stood by us and the Fire Nation, and nothing's ever going to change the fact that you love her."

He lets out a shaky breath as she lifts her hand away. "Right," he says. He swallows hard, and his eyes pinch shut briefly. When they open again, they blaze bright with determination, his gaze resolute. "I'm going to be the best father I can be," he says, and it sounds almost like a vow.

"That's the Zuko I know," Katara says with a grin.

He gives a tired laugh and moves to rub his hands through his hair before stopping as if remembering that he has the topknot in. "Right," he says. He pinches the bridge of his nose instead. "Thank you for agreeing to come, Katara," he says after a moment. "I don't know how I would've managed without you."

Katara shrugs. "It was the least I could do," she says, waving a hand dismissively. "And we all agreed that it was time that Kya and Bumi visited the Fire Nation, anyway."

He smiles. "I'm sure Aang has his hands full watching the two of them," he says. "Hopefully they haven't torn up my city yet."

She laughs. "You'd think they were both benders, with the amount of havoc they cause!" she says. "But Aang can manage without me for a couple of days. We'll even wrangle them both into formal wear for Ursa's celebration party. Maybe I'll even get Aang to give a speech about the harmony and prosperity of the Fire Nation or something."

Zuko nods and squeezes her hand, the motion quick and grateful for far more than a simple speech. "I'll see you there," he says.

The worry doesn't quite fade from his face, but steely determination underlines it. On an impulse, she gives him a hug, which, after a surprised moment, he returns. "You can prepare all you want for parenthood, but you never know how good you'll be until it happens," she says softly as she lets him go. "I know that you'll do fine, Zuko. You and Mai both."


	2. Doppelganger (Azula)

 

 

 

_Book I: Family_

_Chapter 2: Doppelganger (Azula)_

((()))

Her mother hasn’t gone away. She’s still there lurking in mirrors and reflections, and while sometimes she looks like the fake Noriko mask, more often she bears the visage that Azula knew when she was growing up. Always so patient, so kind, so _sweet—_ sometimes it makes Azula want to scream, and she burns the surface again and again until there’s nothing but a charred mess.

More and more often, though, Azula just lets her be. She doesn’t know why—maybe she’s just tired of fighting a hallucination, maybe she knows that the _real_ Ursa is still out there, and that if Azula really wanted answers, she could always go and find her. She’s not locked up in the straitjacket anymore, after all, and Zuzu’s _stupid_ enough to let her wander the island with only a couple of guards for company. She could wait for an airship to land, take out her guards, kill her way back and demand justice from Ursa…

But she doesn’t. She’s not sure why, but as the days begin to blur together, she stays on her island prison. It’s warm. She practices her firebending down on the beach, and the guards don’t disturb her. Even if she sets something on fire, their only action is to contain and douse the flames.

At any rate, it’s not like she’s lonely. Her mother is always there—even though Azula could really do without her nagging—and she gets a good number of visitors. There’s Zuzu, of course, always dressed like a peasant, looking all sad and droopy as he natters on about how he’s ruining the Fire Nation. Then there’s Mai, her absolute _best_ friend Mai, and sometimes they can get through a whole conversation without Azula getting chi-blocked. And oh, yes, speaking of chi blocking: Ty Lee, formerly of the circus and now of those silly painted women, with her _pretty pink aura!_ now that she’s finally found her place in life.

So essentially, everyone is absolutely perfect now. The world moves on. The Fire Nation hasn’t collapsed into civil war. Zuzu’s not completely useless after all, it seems, and Azula tells herself that she’s just absolutely disappointed about that.

In the distance, a horn sounds to announce the arrival of an airship. Azula closes her eyes, not bothering to move from her spot on the beach. If it’s Zuko, he’ll come and find her. He found her at the palace just as she was going to become Fire Lord; he found her when she fled Hira’a.

 _He wants to help you_ , Ursa says. Azula ignores her. She’s had plenty of practice.

Really, Zuko can be just so drearily _predictable_ sometimes.

 

((()))

She doesn’t hear his footsteps over the sound of the waves, and when his shadow falls on her face, Azula instinctively lashes out with fire. He blocks her with an lash of his own, and she laughs, giddy and breathless, as she skips back on the hot sand. “Oh, Zuzu, you’re so naughty,” she taunts, and it feels so good, almost as if they’re children again in the palace gardens. “You should know better than to sneak up on a firebender!”

He’s dressed simply, as always, not even bothering to put the topknot in his hair. “Azula,” he says in greeting. He’s still poised to fight her, but his posture relaxes as she doesn’t attack again. She rolls her eyes and looks past him dismissively. Her eyes skip past the two guards to land on Mai, boring Mai with her precious knives, and—oh. _Oh_.

There’s a little girl clinging to Mai’s robes.

“Azula,” Zuko says again, but she doesn’t look back at him. “I’d like you to meet my daughter.” She can hear him take a deep breath. “Your niece, Ursa.”

It takes a few minutes for his words to register, and when they do, she bursts out laughing. “You named her after _Mother_?” She looks at him, baring her teeth in a vicious smile. “Did she tell you to do that? Or did you just lack the willpower to think up another name?”

He doesn’t rise to her bait, his eyes still calm. Part of her wants to shatter him, to rip him apart until he screams for mercy. Another part wants to…she wants to…

 _He still loves you_ , Ursa whispers.

“Shut up,” Azula hisses through clenched teeth. Her eyes snap back to focus on a silent Zuko. “So why are you here?” she demands harshly as the silence stretches on. “Did you bring her here to gawk at the crazy woman? Show her a shining example of what she _shouldn’t_ be?” She’s getting louder with each word, fury blazing through her. “Did you come here so that _she could hate me_?”

“No,” Zuko says softly. “I came here so she could meet her aunt.” He turns partway, beckoning to Mai and the child. Azula can see that Mai’s poised to throw a dagger in her throat as they approach, and she sneers at her former friend. Zuko places a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Ursa,” he says, and his voice is calm and measured. “This is your Aunt Azula.”

The girl looks up at her with wide golden eyes. Azula stares down at her, her mind going abruptly blank. The girl can’t be older than two or three. She’s clearly inherited her father’s naivete, what with the way she’s staring up at Azula, so guileless, so stupid, so _innocent—_

 _She looks a lot like you,_ Ursa murmurs. _You will always be my little girl, you know_.

“Liar!” Azula shouts. “You didn’t love me; you had to have another girl just to _forget_ me!”

The girl takes a step back even as Mai and Zuko step forward to protect her. Azula turns away, hating the sudden lump in her throat. “What makes you think I want to be family to whatever spawn you’ve made?” she spits out. Calm Zuko is the absolute _worst_ Zuko: she wants him angry and fighting. She knows how to deal with rage. “I would’ve thought that being Fire Lord would have toughened you a bit, but clearly you’re just as weak as you’ve ever been.”

He sighs. “Azula…”

“Look at her, staring like some kind of circus monkey-lemur,” Azula continues spitefully. “Not a word to say, can’t do anything—she’s just like you! Zuzu, my congratulations on managing to create another generation of absolute _weaklings_!”

Something flies past her ear, shearing off a hank of hair. Azula turns around and laughs as she sees steel shining from Mai’s hand. “You get one warning shot,” Mai hisses.

“Sensitive, are we?” Azula laughs. “Dull little mousy Mai—”

“Enough!” Zuko says, stepping between them. He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Azula,” he says. “As siblings, our relationship has been anything but smooth. But I’m still your family, and I want you to be part of Ursa’s family, too.” He grasps her arm, and for some reason she doesn’t pull away. “Please. Let’s have dinner tonight, all four of us.”

Part of her wants to say yes. Another part, a much larger part, focuses on his _stupid_ patronizing tone, oh so sweet and covered and poisonous honey. “Oh yes, a nice family dinner, right before you _leave_!” Azula snaps, rage building inside of her. “Go back to the sane world, Zuzu! You’re so busy tearing the Fire Nation down that I’m surprised the mighty _Fire Lord_ took time to see me!” Flame erupts from her hands, and she watches as Zuko moves himself to protect the girl, as if he could stop her if she _really_ wanted to hurt her. “ _Get out!_ ”

She sends an arc of flame his way, hating him, hating Mai, hating Ursa. As he parries, lightning crackles inside her, sharp and clean. She inhales deeply, savoring the power, and points a finger in Zuko’s direction—

And it explodes in her face, knocking her and the guard who chi-blocked her back into the sand. Azula gives a wordless snarl of rage, kicking and clawing as she tries to fight her way back to Zuko and destroy Ursa. Her mother is in the waves and her voice is everywhere, sad and reproachful and disgustingly _weak_. She’s nothing like her. She’s Ozai’s daughter, the Fire Lord, the _Phoenix Queen!_

 _Give them a chance_ , Ursa pleads.

“Like you ever gave me a chance,” Azula pants, struggling against guards and restraints alike. “They don’t actually want me, Mother, stop being such a _liar_ —”

 _Of course they do_ , Ursa says, or maybe it’s Zuko who’s saying the words, standing steady even as Mai retreats with the girl. He looks at her, and she cringes from the sadness in his eyes. He looks at the guards as they tighten the straps on her hated straitjacket, giving them commands that she can’t hear or care about. As they prop her up in a wheelchair like so much useless trash, Zuko crouches down before her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll try again,” he says, his voice fierce and determined. “Azula, we can make it through—”

She spits in his face. He flinches back, and for a moment she can see anger across his features, the old pride that she’s missed so sorely. “How’s your precious honor now?” she taunts.

She can see his shoulders slump. “Take her to her room,” he directs to the guards, and then they’re wheeling her back to the beachhouse, back to the quiet room where there’s only Ursa for company.

Her face is wet, but she doesn’t care. Fire burns all things away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since we don't know exactly what happened to Azula after _The Search_ , I extrapolated a bit. She's healing, sort of, but it's a hard journey back.
> 
> And yes, Azula likes italics. They are just so ravishingly _dramatic_.


	3. Bedtime Stories (Zuko)

 

_Book I: Family_

_Chapter 3: Bedtime Stories (Zuko)_

_((()))_

The day is filled with meetings, training, politics and subterfuge. At night, his world narrows down to this: Ursa, tucked into bed but not anywhere near asleep, and a well-worn copy of _Love Amongst the Dragons_.

“‘ _As Noren took Aya by the hand_ ,’” Zuko reads, “‘ _the ground began to shake. The waterfall split in two, and the birds cried out in alarm as the Dark Water Spirit emerged from the waves._ ’”

Ursa shrieks with anticipation. “Do the voice! Do the voice!”

Zuko takes a breath and pitches his voice into a sharp, nasal tone for the Dark Water Spirit’s next lines. “‘ _You have come before me again, o disgraced one? Perhaps it’s time that I destroyed you forever!_ ’” he narrates. Really, the Dark Water Spirit is more of an ambiguous trickster spirit than a truly evil one, but somewhere along the way, the voice had stuck. It makes Ursa laugh, anyway, which is more than enough reason to keep using it. “‘ _Noren wished for his fierce scales or his strong wings, but he would only have his flames to protect him now. He clenched his fists as the Dark Water Spirit summoned the waterfall, feeling the fire rise inside him_.’”

Ursa claps, and Zuko grins. He sets down the scroll and Ursa shifts away a little, making room for Zuko to firebend. The fight between the Dark Water Spirit and Noren isn’t really best captured in words, and Zuko resolves to take her to see a live production at some point. In the meantime…

Flames dance around his fingers. He doesn’t do blue fire much: it’s showy and takes up more energy, for one, and for another it usually brings up uncomfortable memories of Azula. In the absence of waterbending, though, it’s the best way to show off the Dark Water Spirit. Zuko draws Noren with his right hand and the Dark Water Spirit with his left, narrating the battle as he does so. The Dark Water Spirit sends water-whips crashing towards Noren! Noren draws up a column of flame! Walls of fire meet walls of water, and both are thrown back by the blast!

Ursa laughs and jumps up, reaching for the spiraling flames. The firelight glows in her eyes as she tries to grasp the fire in her hands, gasping with comical surprise each time as it slips through. Zuko maintains the steady flow of chi, watching carefully as the flames dance around her. Fire is life and energy, but he more than anyone else is acutely aware of how fire can burn. He steadies her as she miscalculates a jump, settling her gently down onto the covers.

She’s laughing breathlessly, her hands still flailing at the air as if she can catch the last few sparks. “That’s the best part!” she announces gleefully as he draws the blankets up around her. “And then Noren throws the Dark Water Spirit into the waterfall and then he finds Aya and then he becomes a dragon again and then she turns into the empress dragon and then they kiss and then they go to the sky and then everyone loves them and they firebend forever and ever and ever and they all live HAPPILY EVER AFTER!” She emphasizes the last couple words by throwing her hands open hard enough that she almost bounces off the bed.

Well, not exactly, Zuko thinks wryly. Happily ever after’s something that you’ve got to earn, if the last couple years have been any indication. He looks down at her flushed, grinning face and relaxes, letting go the pragmatic worries. “Of course,” he agrees, and Ursa wriggles in the covers. “And then they had a little dragon daughter, and she was the best, smartest, and most beautiful dragon there ever was.” He lifts her up and she shrieks with glee. “And you know what that little girl’s name was?”

Ursa shakes her head, her eyes bright with mischief. “Ty Lee!” she crows. “Suki! Riyo!”

“No, silly,” he says. “There’s only one dragon princess, and that, of course…” he pauses for dramatic effect, and she holds her breath in anticipation. “…was Ursa!”

She howls with delight, collapsing backwards into his arms. She’s still laughing with the door opens and Mai enters, looking as if she’s trying to be annoyed but not quite managing it. “I can hear you all the way down the hall,” Mai says, her voice dry. “I thought you were supposed to be reading her a _bedtime_ story.”

Zuko opens his mouth to apologize, but Ursa interrupts. “Mommy!” she cries. “Daddy says I’m a dragon princess!”

“Of course you are,” Mai says, sitting on the edge of the bed. “You’re our little girl. And dragon princesses need to sleep so they can be rested for the next day.”

Ursa pouts a little, but she doesn’t protest too much when they tuck her back into the covers. Zuko rolls up the scroll and sets it carefully back into its place of honor on the shelf. Mai gives her a goodnight kiss, and Zuko follows suit, ghosting his lips across her hair. Ursa is more tired than her actions let on: he can hear her yawning as they close the door.

“One of these days we should take her to see the actual play,” Mai says in a musing tone. He looks at her, raising an eyebrow. “Not the Ember Island Players,” she clarifies. “An actual _good_ production.”

“Thank Agni,” Zuko says, heartfelt. “I was just thinking that, actually.” A thought occurs to him. “There’s a troupe in Hira’a that’s pretty good.”

Mai slides her arm through his. “We’ll go there for the next festival day, then,” she promises. Zuko buries his face in her hair and nods. “Long day?” she asks.

“Mmm,” he says into her hair. He looks up with a small smile. “Getting better.”

She tilts her head up and kisses him, light and soft. “Come on, Zuko,” she says. “Let’s go to bed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the segment that started it all: what would Zuko be like as a dad/brother figure to someone who's not, you know, Azula? According to _The Search_ and his all-too-brief interaction with Kiyi, the answer is apparently _too freaking adorable_.
> 
> My thanks to the Avatar Wiki for supplying the plot of _Love Amongst the Dragons_.


	4. One Moment at a Time (Kiyi)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who are wondering, Kiyi is Zuko's half-sister from _The Search_. She's about 18 or 19 here.

_Book I: Family_

_Chapter 4: One Moment at a Time (Kiyi)_

  
_  
_((()))

The house is a bit crowded with six as opposed to the usual three, but somehow all six of them manage to move around each other without too much collision: Mom and Lady Mai bring the dishes over from the stove, Dad finishes packing the props away in the back room, and Zuko helps her set the table. The only one who’s really underfoot is Ursa, but they all manage to seat themselves at the dinner table without much fuss. It’s a bit crowded with six as opposed to the usual three, but that’s completely okay. Family and guests and news all rolled into one; what could be better?

“We’re thinking about adding some modern plays to the repertoire next year,” Dad says between bites, picking up a thread of conversation from earlier. “ _Fire and Earth_ has been a popular suggestion. I saw a production of it last year in Tian’an, and we could feasibly adapt it to our needs.”

Zuko gives a wry laugh. “As long as you don’t do _The Boy in the Iceberg_ ,” he says. “I’m not sure even Kiyi’s acting skills could save that disaster.” He turns towards her with a grin. “You were amazing as the Dragon Empress, by the way.”

Kiyi ducks her head at the praise. She’s been performing since she was ten, but this is the first time she’s carried a role as weighty as that of the Dragon Empress. Dad might be the troupe leader, but he doesn’t play favorites. Kiyi earned that role fair and square, and the applause had been thunderous. “Thanks,” she says, grinning.

“Miles better than Tai Li,” Lady Mai mutters, naming the head actress of the Ember Island Players, one of their chief competition. Kiyi struggles to keep her grin from growing wider and bows her head again. “It shouldn’t be possible to see makeup through a mask, but somehow Tai Li slathers so much on that it’s impossible to miss.”

“It’s unfortunate that they were the troupe that Ozai chose,” Mom agrees gravely. She looks at Zuko. “I’m sorry that I subjected you to that, sweetheart, but a bastardardized version of the classics is better than none.”

The two of them share a private grin, and Kiyi looks from one to the other. It’s still strange to think that Mom has this whole other past as the Fire Lady, and that her half-brother Zuko is actually the _Fire Lord_. “Did you—” she begins, but a bright, clear voice interrupts her.

“The part with the bending was best!” Ursa says. All eyes turn towards her, and she puffs out her chest at the attention. “It ended too quickly, though,” she says with authority.

“Oh, yeah?” Kiyi asks, leaning forward.

Ursa nods. “The ending should’ve been with the two of them returning to the thrones of the sky palace to show that that Noren’s willing to take up his ‘sponsiblities.”

Dad laughs. “Well, the play consists of Noren learning about why dodging responsibility is bad. After all Noren’s been through, the playwrights like to end on a sweet, happy note. A kiss, for instance.”

“But the story’s about more than just love,” Ursa tells him seriously. “He was cast out because he was bad, but he became good again so he went home. He’s happy because he’s good, but that also means that he has to work and help others be good too. You can’t just stop with a kiss and make it all better.”

There’s a bit of a silence at this proclaimation, one that Mom breaks. “We have an art critic in our midst!” she says with a gentle smile.

“Does life imitate art, or art imitate life? Such weighty questions,” Lady Mai comments, a sly look in her eye. Kiyi knows the outlines of the story of how Zuko was banished and rose to become Fire Lord, and it’s enough that she wants to see his reaction. She sneaks a quick glance at Zuko—he’s blushing a little bit, and she bites down a grin.

“Now, now, it’s good that she’s thinking about the greater themes of the story,” Dad declares, diverting attention from Zuko. He addresses his next words to Ursa, who straightens up. “I’m not sure what liberties I can take with the production of an ancient classic, Princess, but I’ll keep it in mind when we’re working on a more modern play. _Fire and Earth_ , I think, also ends on a rather packaged ending.”

Zuko seems relieved that the conversation’s moved off of him. “If you choose _Fire and Earth_ , what do you have in mind for the earthbending choreography?” he asks quickly. “Fire, air and water can move in similar lash and spiral patterns, but earth’s very distinct in how it attacks and defends.”

Dad scratches his head. “We’ve done some pillar work for earthbending before,” he says, “but I admit, we’d have to study up a bit on earthbending techniques.” Kiyi can see him think for a moment. “Not much opportunity for it on Hira’a, though.”

“Travel to the Earth Kingdom is easier now,” Lady Mai says. “The former colonies would have plenty of earthbending to show you.”

“Republic City’s becoming a place to be proud of,” Zuko adds. “Plenty of opportunity there. You could even bring the troupe there to perform.”

Republic City! Kiyi’s only heard of it, but the name is enough to stir up enough curiosity and excitement to kill a cat owl. She turns toward Dad eagerly, but her excitement wanes as she sees the reluctance on Dad’s face. Whether out of stubbornness or disclination to change, she doesn’t know, but the result is the same. “Our tours are generally limited to the Fire Nation,” Dad says. “I don’t know if Fire Nation classics would be received as well, given…ah...recent history.”

“You mean the whole hundred-year-war business,” Lady Mai clarifies, and Dad nods. “It’s gotten a lot better this past decade. You should’ve seen it when we first started out.”

“We’re fairly protected from the political upheaval here in Hira’a,” Mom says, and Kiyi can hear the mild note of apology in her voice. She looks at Dad. “Still, it’s worth considering. We can hardly remain in stasis forever, dear.”

Kiyi bursts in. “I’d love to travel,” she says, trying not to sound too eager. “I mean, there’s so much of the world out there, and all these new techniques. And they’d love our plays, Dad! Our classics predate the war. And what’s that you always say? Art knows no boundaries!”

Dad still looks doubtful. “I’m not sure if the cultural connotations would translate as well, though,” he says.

Zuko leans forward, setting his bowl on the table. “The world’s changing, Noren,” he says, quiet and earnest. “The former colonies, Republic City chief among them, are something that transcends the boundaries of the four nations. It’s a multicultural place, and your troupe would be an honored addition to the new identity that’s forming.”

Dad looks at him with a raised eyebrow. “That was very…formal,” he says, sounding suspicious.

“It’s true, though,” Lady Mai interjects before Zuko can say anything. “Representatives of our culture would always be welcome, and your troupe is among the best that I’ve seen. And believe me, I’ve seen a lot. Unfortunately.”

Oh, please please please, Kiyi thinks. “Come on, Dad!” she says coaxingly. “We’re thinking of changing the lineup, so why not look for plays outside the Fire Nation too? We could read up on Earth Kingdom stories, or Water Tribe, or even maybe Air Nomad…”

“I’m sure Aang would be happy to help with that,” Zuko adds. “He’s been working a lot with the Air Acolytes to help preserve Air Nomad culture, and some of their traditional stories would be great for a stage adaptation.”

Dad holds up a hand. “All right, I see your point. I’ll think about it,” he says firmly. Kiyi’s spirits fall: she knows that he really _will_ think about it, but the answer is still likely to be no. Dad looks at Zuko and gives him a nod. “Thank you for the suggestion.”

The tone of his voice forbids further discussion. Kiyi sighs and slumps back, disappointed. Eventually, Mom strikes up a new conversation, but it isn’t the same.

((()))

“You can still go, you know.”

Zuko’s voice is quiet, almost conspiratory as they sit on the porch. There’s a lamp between them, the light highlighting the shadows of his face and scar. In the garden, Ursa runs about yelling, trying to catch firemoths in her hands. “What do you mean?” Kiyi says.

He leans back. “We have a cultural exchange program,” he says. “Essentially, the crown fully funds young, enterprising scholars to go forth and learn about other nations in hopes of fostering peace and understanding between different cultures.” He sounds like he’s reciting something, which is probably is. He turns to look at her. “There’s a lot more to it, but basically, you would be able to travel and learn without worrying about money.”

“I’ve never heard of this,” Kiyi says suspiciously.

“I’m not surprised. Most applications have been from the middle or upper class of the capital city and surrounding areas,” he says, sounding resigned. “We’ve been trying to get the word out, but it doesn’t spread quickly enough, it seems.”

Kiyi curls her knees up and rests her chin on them, studying him pensively. “Why are you suggesting this?”

He shrugs. “I can see you want to travel, to learn more about the world. You love new adventures, new worlds. That’s why you love acting, isn’t it?” he says, and she nods slowly. “And you’re smart. You’d be great out there.”

She blushes and looks down. “I’m just a peasant girl.”

He laughs, and it takes a moment to realize that he’s not laughing at her. “I’ve been taught over and over again about how the word ‘peasant’ doesn’t mean anything,” he says, passing a hand over his eyes. “Trust me, Kiyi, if you want to go, it’s completely possible.” He lowers his hand and gives her a steady look. “You just have to say the word.”

“I…I don’t know,” Kiyi stammers. “There’s Dad and Mom and the troupe. I have responsibilities; I can’t just leave…”

“Then wait until the season’s over,” Zuko suggests. “And then send a message to me at the palace. Or who knows, come find me yourself. I’ll make it happen.”

She squints at him. “I feel like you’re abusing your position,” she says, half-marveling at her own audacity. On one hand, he’s her half-brother Zuko, someone who drops by her family’s town every year for a week or so, polite and gracious to her parents and also one of the coolest people ever to hang out with. On the other hand, he’s _Fire Lord Zuko,_ imperial and commanding, not to mention a pioneer and symbol of a new age. Just the title is enough to strike terror into a humble peasant’s heart.

“I’m offering an opportunity to a bright young scholar who has much to offer both the United Republic and the Fire Nation in the preservation and development of our shared cultural heritage,” he replies. As she blinks at him, he adds with a small smile, “I’ve become very good at making things sound fancy. It makes politicians happier for some reason.”

In the garden, Ursa leaps for a firemoth and misses, sprawling to the ground. Undaunted, she pushes herself to her feet, preparing to try again. Kiyi looks across the garden at her niece (half-niece? It seems too petty a distinction to make). “What about you?” she asks, more to change the topic than anything else. “If Ursa wanted to go, would you let her?”

Zuko follows her gaze. “She’s going to be Fire Lord after me,” he says in a quiet, musing tone. “I’m not sure she has a choice. Being Fire Lord isn’t just about the Fire Nation anymore.”

“She seems smart,” Kiyi ventures.

He smiles. “She is,” he says, and there’s a father’s pride clear in his voice. “Intelligence has to be applied, though, and learning about the world is one way to do that.”

He stands up and Kiyi follows, dusting off her pants. As Ursa flops onto the ground once more, Zuko walks over to her and picks her up, hiking her onto his shoulder. “Nooo,” Ursa cries. “I can do it!”

“Time for bed, dragon princess,” Zuko says, turning the title into an affectionate nickname. Ursa pouts, but Zuko holds her firmly as he heads back to the house. At the doorway, he turns to look at Kiyi. “You don’t have to decide now.”

Kiyi halts behind him, suddenly reluctant to go back in. “It’s just so sudden,” she admits. “I mean, last week I was practicing my lines as Dragon Empress, and now…things are changing so quickly.” She wraps her arms around herself. “It’s strange.”

“I know how you feel,” Zuko says. “Sometimes, you just have to…” he stops for a moment, staring off into the distance. A faint smile curls his lips as if at some fond memory. Turning back to her, he says, “You just have to make a decision and go for it. And then hang on as the world turns upside down around you.”

“That’s what happened with you and the Avatar, isn’t it?” Kiyi says daringly. “You decided to join him, and then everything changed.”

“That’s what happened with me and a lot of things, really,” Zuko says, his voice dry. “Chasing the Avatar, not chasing the Avatar, becoming Fire Lord, becoming a dad…I never was the best idea guy out there.” He shifts Ursa on his shoulder and presses a kiss to her hair. “Still. It’s worked out, mostly.” He looks back at Kiyi. “Think about it. The offer’s always open.”

She nods, and he turns and heads inside. Kiyi sighs and sits back down on the porch, staring at the stars above. They shine in the sky night after night across the whole world, uncaring of distance or boundary.

The world’s changing. Maybe it’s best if she did the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized that so far this fic could be summed up as "People, Zuko, and Feeeeeelings." The focus pulls out a bit more later on, promise.


	5. Of Bending and Boomerangs (Aang)

_Book I: Family_

_Chapter 5: Of Bending and Boomerangs (Aang)_

((()))

The air marbles are a huge hit, as they usually are. Kya and Bumi have been on air marbles plenty of times, of course, but they can never get enough of riding around on them. Lin and Ursa are having the time of their lives as they urge their air chariots to more daring acrobatics around the bison yards. “Are you sure that’s safe?” Katara says worriedly from beside him. She’s moving slowly these days with her eight-month pregnancy, but the maternal instinct is still as strong as ever.

Aang turns to smile at her and drops a quick kiss onto her belly. Hopefully it’ll be an airbender this time, he thinks, before pushing such thoughts out of his head. It’s too nice a day to worry about that. “Course it is,” he says easily. “I used to run into rocks all the time and nothing bad ever happened.”

“I don’t know, Twinkletoes,” Toph says as she sprawls across the grass, her toes digging into the warm dirt. “I could’ve sworn you’re missing a brain or two sometimes.”

“Only sometimes?” Mai says. Aang throws a blade of grass at her, and she flicks it off her robe with a dainty finger and gives him a pointed look. There’s no real venom behind it, though.

Katara pokes him with her elbow, diverting his attention. “All this doesn’t make me feel better, sweetie,” she says, but she’s smiling. She tilts her head back, the sun gilding the lines of her face. She looks beautiful in the sunlight. Course, she always does.

Grinning, Aang leans back on his elbows in the grass, loosening his hold over the air marbles. They’ll keep spinning, but the kids can control them more directly now. “So is the Fire Nation going to blow up without you there, Sifu Hotman?” he asks, turning his head to face Zuko. “I mean, a whole week without you guys or Iroh, that’s serious business right there.”

Zuko rolls his eyes, whether at the nickname or the question Aang’s not sure, but he’s willing to bet that it’s probably the former. “You could sound less hopeful,” he says. “My advisors have the strictest instructions to inform me if anything happens. At any rate, the country’s fairly stable right now. The only thing I can really think of is the price of rice which has been inching into dangerous territory, but—”

“Oh, politics,” Sokka interrupts dismissively, waving a hand. Aang can see Zuko scowl, but he doesn’t protest. “I get enough of that all day long with the Council,” Sokka continues. He tosses his boomerang into the air, catching it one-handedly. “Let’s talk about pro-bending! Did you hear about last week’s tournament? This guy hid a bunch of trained fire ferrets in his jacket and unleashed them onto the field. Something about how they never said only humans could compete.”

“Seems like animal cruelty to me,” Katara says, sounding doubtful.

“Did the fire ferrets win, at least?” Ty Lee asks brightly.

“Well, they got a couple bites in,” Sokka says. “And Katara, none of the fire ferrets got squished. I mean, two of them did get thrown into the water, but it turns out that fire ferrets can swim, so it was okay. The guy and his team did get disqualified, though, and now there’s a rule that the only living creatures a team may have are three humans on the field at any particular time.”

“Ah, but they never said anything against giant dirt monsters,” Toph says. “You know, I might have to give this probending thing a try.”

“Oh, no, we’re all doomed,” Katara moans theatrically.

“Actually, they did,” Sokka says, holding up a finger. “Well, they made rules about earthbending, anyway. You can only earthbend discs from within the zone you are currently in.”

“Fine, then,” Toph says. “I’ll make giant _metal_ monsters. They never said anything about metalbending, now did they?”

“Aha!” Sokka says. “You know, that kind of sheer genius will help you go far,” he says gravely to Toph, who flashes him an impish grin in response. On Sokka’s other side, Suki whacks him on the shoulder. “What? Thinking outside the box! That’s the kind of innovation we need.”

“Indeed, Republic City is the epitome of innovation,” Iroh agrees, sounding altogether too cheerful.

As Sokka strikes up an easygoing argument with the adults taking various sides, Aang gives a contented sigh. He spreads his arms and closes his eyes, letting the sun soak into him. It’s a beautiful day, just enough warmth and light to be comfortable but not hot. It’s rare that they all manage to get together like this without some sort of horrible political crisis at stake, and he fully intends to enjoy every moment of it.

“Hey, watch this!” Bumi declares suddenly from the yard, and Aang cracks open an eye. Bumi’s the oldest of the group at a lofty eight years old, and he instantly commands the attention of five-year-old Ursa and three-year-old Lin. Kya, of course, has seen it all before, and she ignores him pointedly.

In a single fluid movement, Bumi whips out a boomerang and throws it towards a mango-apple tree. Whether out of poor aim or miscalculation, it zooms past the tree and hits Kya squarely in the head, knocking her off her air marble. Aang leaps up as Kya does the same, her eyes blazing. “Ow!” she yells. “That hurt!”  

Katara moves to stand, but before she can get to her feet Kya’s already on the move. With clumsy yet swift movements, she makes a waterbending gesture, summoning water from the nearby pond to splash onto Bumi. Bumi sputters. “Hey, no bending! That’s not fair!”

“Kids!” Katara calls out. “Stop fighting!”

They ignore her. “BENDING FIGHT!” Lin whoops, and suddenly the ground in the bison yard is shaking, causing the bisons to bellow in distress. Aang scowls and forces the ground to still with sharp movements, and Lin looks around in consternation, her lower lip sticking out in a pout.

“She can bend already at three?” Zuko says from the ledge, sounding impressed. “You’ve got a prodigy on your hands, Toph.”

“Of course, she’s my kid,” Toph says, waving a hand and not sounding at all concerned. “You expect anything different?”

The fight is brewing up to become a heated battle as Bumi and Kya square off. Aang sprints down from the ledge and steps into the fray. He grabs Kya with one arm and Bumi with the other, shaking them lightly. “Play nice, guys,” he says sternly. “Kya, Bumi didn’t mean to hit you on purpose—”

“Did so!” Kya yells.

“—but you shouldn’t have waterbended onto him. Both of you to need to apologize to each other and—ow!” Something whacks him on the back of the head, and he turns around to see Lin beaming angelically at him. “Lin, stop that!”

“Not me!” Lin sings, scrambling away.

Giggles burst from a nearby bush, and Ursa’s head pops up above the leaves. “Wasn’t me either!” Ursa says, but her gasping laughs give her away.

Aang groans and looks at the cluster of adults for help. Katara’s on her feet, but he shakes his head, trying to get her from getting closer in her pregnant state. Sokka gives him a jaunty wave. “Hi Aang!” he calls cheerfully. “Having fun with the kids?” Katara tries to kick him, but he rolls away easily. Meanwhile, Kya gestures wildly with her free hand, summoning up a wave of water that coils around the fallen boomerang. Bumi yells with indignation and leaps for her, slamming the two of them and Aang into the dirt. Shrieks of triumph tell Aang that either Lin or Ursa has claimed the boomerang.

“Go, go!” he hears Toph yell. “That’s my girl!”

“You’re not helping!” Aang yells back at her, and though his face is still pressed in the dirt, he knows she heard him and he knows that she’s laughing. Aang tries to roll up, but it’s surprisingly hard with two squabbling siblings on top of them, both degenerating into hair-pulling and shin-kicking. Growling, Aang wriggles out from under them and stomps hard in the ground, calling up a dirt wall that rises up between them. “Kids, stop—ohhhh noooo—”

Aang whirls around to find a sky bison aimed directly at him, giant tongue wet with saliva and unleashed like a deadly weapon. As he falls stunned against the dirt wall, Ursa and Lin come tumbling down the sky bison’s forehead, both of them laughing up a storm. “By the powers of the elements, you will be destroyed!” Ursa shouts as she drops onto the ground. Lin is somewhat less eloquent, but the sentiment is the same if her roar of _“BEIFONG ALWAYS WINS!_ ” is any indication.

Bumi and Kya, evidently distracted from their battle by the sky bison, come running over. “That’s my boomerang!” he can hear Bumi say, and whoever has possession of it is surprisingly compliant about it, handing it over without a fight. As Ursa’s voice chirps, “Now show me how you use it!” (did she have the boomerang? When did she get ahold of it?), Aang groans and slumps against the dirt, letting the sky bison lick him without a fight.

When hands finally come down to help extract him from the eager tongue, Aang’s wet all over and slimy to boot. He wipes away the worst of the gunk on his face and looks up to see Suki and Zuko, both of them grimacing at his current state. “Wow,” Zuko says. “I thought I knew what bison oogies were like, but you’ve got me beat by a mile.”

“Oogies?” Aang demands. Zuko shrugs, not even having the decency to look apologetic. Behind them, Katara waddles over, shaking her head as she waterbends a wave over to clean him off. Behind _her_ , the rest of the adults are still sitting on the grassy ledge, broad grins on their faces.

“Thanks for helping, guys,” Aang mutters sarcastically as he emerges from the wave. Katara clucks her tongue and waterbends it back into the pond. Aang shakes his head, feeling a few stray drops drip down his neck.

“Well, you looked like you had everything under control,” Suki says, trying not to smile but failing miserably.

Aang scowls at her but he can’t keep it up, the irritation fading away quickly as he turns to look at the children. Bumi and Kya are demonstrating boomerang tricks now to Ursa’s delight, and Lin watches with studious concentration as she tries to earthbend her own boomerang. “Well, they didn’t kill each other,” he says ruefully, rubbing his neck. He pats the sky bison, which gives out a contented rumble at his touch. “Even if you did get in the way, Meimei.”

The others finally mosey their way down to the yard. Sokka crosses his arms and watches the boomerang demonstrations with a discerning eye. “You know, maybe I should give Lin and Ursa boomerangs too,” he says at last with the air of a master. “You never know when they might come in handy.”

“Please don’t,” Zuko says with a groan. “Ursa gets into enough trouble already. I can’t imagine what it’ll be like once she starts bending.”

Toph cracks her knuckles. “Please _do_ ,” she says with relish. “The more the merrier.” She pumps her fist into the air. “Earth Kingdom represent!”

Aang gives the sky bison one last pat. “Go back to your pen, Meimei,” he says. The sky bison bellows as she rises ponderously off the ground, landing in her pen with a thump. Aang dusts himself off and looks at the people around him—old friends, new friends, family and children. He can’t keep the smile from growing.

“Aang?” Katara asks softly, evidently noticing his expression. He looks back at her.

“I’m glad we’re all here,” he says simply. Judging by the looks on their faces, he knows that the sentiment is returned.

 

((()))

The rest of the afternoon passes relatively peacefully, with all of them enjoying the breeze and sunshine together as the children play in the background. When the gong rings for dinner, they rise, preparing to return to the Temple. “Kids!” Katara call. “Time for dinner!”

“Aww, now?” comes the pleading chorus.

Katara begins to say something, but Aang puts a hand on her arm. “They’ll come in when they’re hungry,” he says. She looks at him for a moment before nodding, placing a hand on the arch of her back with a small sigh. He wraps an arm around her and kisses her temple.

“Oh, the happy sounds of children at play,” Toph says with a satisfied grin on her face as they amble back to the Air Temple. “Warms the cockles of my heart, it does.”

“As long as you don’t listen too closely to what they’re saying,” Mai amends.

Almost as if on cue, a voice rises from the bison yard. “ _By the powers of the boomerangs, you will be destroyed!”_ a triumphant voice howls. “ _Sky bisons, attack_!”

The adults look at each other in mutual consternation. “Not it,” they all say simultaneously, and they’re all laughing, friends and family together, as they race back to the Temple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa, that's a load of tags just from this chapter alone. Most of these guys (all?) will get their own POV chapters later on, though, so I don't feel _that_ bad about it.
> 
> And here concludes Book I! /tosses confetti


	6. Simmering (Ty Lee)

_Book II: Identity_

_Chapter 1: Simmering (Ty Lee)_

((()))

There’s the faint sound of footsteps on stone, soft and swift. Ty Lee scans the courtyard for signs of trouble, more intrigued than really alarmed. It’s been ages since anyone’s tried to properly assassinate Zuko and Mai, anyway, and the last person she apprehended was more drunk than anything else (and drunk auras are a sight to behold, they really are, swirls of queasy green and yellow). Still, you can never be too careful, and she pads silently to a better vantage point.

Instead of some sneaky assassin, though, it’s just Ursa, holding a candle in her hands like it’s a Fire Nation jewel. As Ty Lee watches, Ursa sets the candle down carefully by the turtleduck pond and sits down cross-legged before it, staring at it intently as if it holds all the secrets of the universe. And then she…just sits. And stares. And that’s it.

Okay, that’s weird.

Strictly speaking, she doubts that Ursa’s supposed to be out of her room at night, but who hasn’t done a little sneaking around when they were kids? (Ha, she can say “when they were kids” without any irony now, and does it feel strange or what?) ‘Course, she’s never snuck out to do something as anticlimactic as staring at a candle, but you’ve got start somewhere. And if staring at a candle is Ursa’s cup of tea, then, well, who is she to judge…

As she watches, Ursa’s face twists into an angry frown and shoots of stormy black blend into her aura. And it’s a shame, because Princess Ursa usually has one of the prettiest auras that Ty Lee’s ever seen, all dreamy rose and light yellow. “Up!” Ursa says, gesturing at the candlelight with an angry jab of her hands. “Fire! Go!”

Ohhh! Ty Lee thinks. She’s trying to _firebend!_ And…she’s not very good at it. Well, it would be more accurate to say that she’s not bending it at all. As Ty Lee watches, Ursa’s movements get more and more erratic before finally, she knocks the candle over onto the grass, flame and all. With a gasp, Ursa slaps her palm on top of the flame and gives out a startled yelp as it burns her before going out. “Ow!”

Ty Lee figures this is as good a time to make an entrance as any. She can dance across leaves without making the barest whisper, but she makes her footsteps purposefully loud so not to startle the princess. “Hey!” she says brightly, and Ursa whirls around. “What’re you doing?”

As Ty Lee watches, Ursa shoves the candle behind her as if she can hide it and jumps to her feet. “Nothing!” she says quickly. “I just like the pond. And the turtleducks!” she adds as if inspired, despite the fact that there aren’t any turtleducks near her. “And I like the night, and the sky, and it’s really quiet!”

Ty Lee crosses her arms, waiting. If nothing else, her training with the Kyoshi Warriors has taught her the value of silence, and Ursa gets visibly more nervous as time ticks on. “I like light,” Ursa adds, rather lamely Ty Lee thinks, after a moment. “And people will notice if I light a candle in my room, so I thought I’d come out, and then I’d sit by the pond. With the turtleducks. And the light.” She looks down at her feet. “But it went out.”

Ty Lee’s never had kids. She’d considered it briefly when she’d met that guy from Gao Ling, but though the sex had been _pretty_ spectacular, it had all kind of fizzled out after it turned out he expected her to leave the Kyoshi Warriors and become a housewife to raise the kids when they married. While she mightn’t have minded having kids, she’s not about to leave her sisters for some googly-eyed _guy._ At any rate, she’s been stationed at the Fire Nation palace often enough that she’s watched Mai and Zuko fumble through parenthood, and now she tries to channel what Mai would say. “Were you afraid of being seen with a candle or something?” she asks. “We’ve got loads of those. No one’s going to miss one or two.”

Ursa doesn’t look up from her feet. “No,” she says. “I was just trying mumurmurmur.” The last couple words fade into unintelligible mumbling.

Ty Lee decides to try a different tack. “You know,” she says, “in the Kyoshi Warriors, they teach us to always be prepared for any emergency. Most of that applies to fighting people, but there’s also a lot of survival skills in there. Like our fans, for instance!” She snaps her fan open, and she’s always loved how the fans make this super impressive sound when they do that. “Now,” she says, as she takes a spark rock from her pocket, “Watch this…”

Ursa looks up, and Ty Lee slices the edge of the fan against the spark rock in one swift movement. A spray of sparks flies out in a gorgeous arc from the edge, and Ursa’s eyes go wide. She claps her hands. “Again!”

Ty Lee obliges, this time adding a little trick of her own—she flips the fan with a quick movement of her wrist, and this time the sparks form a tightening spiral of light. “See? That way we can carry fire wherever we go,” Ty Lee says.

Ursa’s eyes follow the last spark as it falls to the grass and flickers out. Her face falls. “But not like Daddy carries fire,” she says, sounding sad. Her aura dims, not even angry black, just a dingy gray. “Even Riyo and Jinxien can carry fire now. I’m the only one who can’t.”

Riyo and Jinxien are her friends, Ty Lee recalls. “Carrying fire isn’t that special,” she tries, but Ursa doesn’t seem encouraged. “There are heaps of other things you can do other than that.” Ursa shrugs, still disconsolate, and Ty Lee changes tactics. “You know your dad couldn’t firebend until he was seven, right? And even then he could only light a candle. It wasn’t until way later that he learned how to firebend properly.”

Ursa looks up at her, her aura brightening. “Really?”

“Yep,” Ty Lee says. It’s hardly a secret, and she’s sure that Zuko won’t care if she tells the story. Well. Maybe not the whole story, just the important bits of it. “Even after he started bending, he had a lot of trouble with the forms, too, and his dad wasn’t really happy with him. It wasn’t until he left and joined the Avatar that he became really good at firebending.” There, an abridged and child-friendly version of what happened. The real story’s way more complicated, but the whole face-burning and the exiling and the ‘let’s burn down the Earth Kingdom’ bit probably isn’t important. “So there you go,” she concludes.

It certainly seems to cheer up Ursa, at any rate, at hearing that she’s got a whole year before she’s falling behind her father. “Oh!” she says. Her little jaw sets in determination. “I’m going to try real hard, then, and practice every day.”

“You can’t push for it, silly, it’ll come when it comes,” Ty Lee says. “There are lots of other things you could try while you’re waiting, though.” A thought occurs to her. “Hey, I could teach you chi-blocking!”

Ursa wrinkles her nose. “Chi-blocking? What’s that?”

Ohhh, Zuko’s going to be so mad at her, but it’s totally worth it. “It’s a way to make it so that other people can’t bend,” she says. “It puts you on an even ground if something bad happens. Come on, I’ll show you.”

She holds out a hand to Ursa, and the young princess takes it. She probably thinks of this as some kind of diversion until the _real_ power comes, but you never know when some alternative skills come in handy. Benders often become useless if their bending is taken away, and that’s one reason Ty Lee’s never really cared about firebending at all. She can chi block, fight with fans and katana, and walk a tightrope with the best of them—next to all that, what does a little flashy flame compare?

She begins to point out the pressure points to Ursa, explaining how even a light jab can take out the most ferocious fighter if you do it just right. Diversion or not, Ursa’s brow is wrinkled in concentration, and she listens intently to what Ty Lee has to say. As they walk through the steps, Ursa’s aura brightens up again, glowing with lovely shades of gold and amber that brighten up the dark courtyard.

It makes Ty Lee happy just to see it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ty Lee's voice was surprisingly hard to capture, but hopefully I did it justice. I have seven marked down in my memory as the age when Zuko began to bend (and Azula at four), but I honestly have no clue if that's fanon, canon, or a delirious dream I had at some point. If it's confirmed at some point in canon and I missed it, let me know. 
> 
> Anyway, happy holidays, whatever you celebrate!


	7. Finding the Way (Iroh)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ursa's eight years old here.

_Book II: Identity_

_Chapter 2: Finding the Way (Iroh)_

((()))

“So how has the Jasmine Dragon been, Uncle?” Zuko asks as he kneels by the table, setting a teacup-laden tray on the table. He hands one to Iroh, then Mai, then Ursa before taking one for himself and standing up. “Weren’t you thinking about expanding beyond Ba Sing Se into other cities of the Earth Kingdom?”

“I did,” Iroh says. “However, I eventually turned down the idea. One teashop is more than enough for me, and it’s doing well enough that there is no need to worry about finances. Why get greedy, when I can only be in one place at a time?”

“You know a teashop here in the capital city would always be welcomed,” Zuko says as he sits down cross-legged next to Mai. “And you never needed to worry about finances anyway.”

“I try not to be a burden in my old age,” Iroh says primly, and Zuko snorts. Iroh lifts his cup, and the others follow suit. “Let me know what you think of this blend,” he says. “This is a particularly fine tea grown in the sun-dappled valleys of Kolau Mountain.”

It seems, Iroh reflects with no little amusement, that he is doomed to be related to a younger generation with no inborn appreciation for tea. Ursa drinks from her cup with a certain solemnity, but Iroh can catch the wrinkle of her nose. To think that this is one of his finest blends, too! Still, as she sets her cup down, she gives no other sign of her distaste. “Thank you for the tea, Dad, Uncle Iroh,” she says properly, her hands folded in her lap.

“You are very welcome indeed,” Iroh says gravely, bowing to her in the Earth Kingdom style. He reaches into the bag next to him and pulls out a folded cloth bundle. “And for a lovely young girl, I have a gift from the marketplaces of Ba Sing Se.”

He can see Ursa squirm a little with excitement, the composed demeanor falling away. She takes the bundle with eager hands and unfolds the heavy cloth, revealing a steel-backed fan. The design of the fan is done in intricate silk stitches, and it portrays a dragon circling a mountain. It’s not a true fighting fan so the edge isn’t sharp, but the steel frame is heavy enough that you could reasonably knock someone out with it. Ursa brings it close to her face, studying the design intently. “That’s the mom dragon!” she says, pointing at the sapphire-scaled dragon. “She’s blue so she can blend with the sky and take her babies to safety.”

“Very astute,” Iroh says, smiling. “And the father dragon is red so that he may draw away predators from the nest. The two of them work in harmony to protect the children.”

Ursa nods absently and unfurls the fan carefully to its full width, tracing the frame with careful fingers. Finally, she looks up, beaming widely. “This is the best present ever!” she says.

Iroh laughs and opens his arms, and she flings herself onto him. “Thank you, Uncle Iroh,” she says. He supports her back with his arms as she leans back. “It’s just like what Suki and Ty Lee have!”

“She wants to join the Kyoshi Warriors,” Mai explains. “Either that or the circus. Something about lion elephants.” She looks amused. “Ty Lee’s been a terrible influence on her.”

“Both are very noble pursuits,” Iroh says. He looks back at Ursa. “I am sure that she would make an excellent Kyoshi Warrior. Or acrobat, if she puts her mind to it.”

“So Uncle Iroh, when can I visit you in Ba Sing Se?” Ursa asks eagerly, bouncing up and down. “Mom and Dad took me all over the Fire Nation already, but I want to see the Earth Kingdom and the giant walls. Is it true that they built a jade gate around the wall you blew down when you took the city back? Can we go to the Ba Sing Se zoo? Has anyone ever been eaten? Uncle Aang said that there huge chutes that we can ride from the very top of the city. Can we go for a ride?”

“The gate is made out of stone, although I believe there are statues with eyes of jade,” Iroh tells her, “and the zoo is quite magnificent. No one to my knowledge has been eaten yet. And I’m afraid that the huge chutes are actually in Omashu.” He looks at Zuko and Mai. “As for the when and can, that is up to your parents.”

“Uh,” Zuko says as Ursa turns toward him, no doubt unleashing the saddest, most woeful eyes she can muster. “Soon?”

“Next time we head to the Earth Kingdom, we’ll take you along,” Mai says. “You can run around the city while we talk to overly important people. Just try not to set anything on fire.”

“Yay!” Ursa cheers. Iroh releases her, and she moves back to her seat at the table and picks up the fan. “May I be excused, please?” she asks, her words rushing together. “I want to show Riyo and Jinxien and Ty Lee my fan!” Zuko nods, and she bows to her parents and then Iroh, palm over fist in the Fire Nation style, before opening the sliding door and scampering out.

“Your child is growing up quite well,” Iroh says approvingly as the sliding door rolls shut. “She won’t miss her lack of firebending as she will have more than enough grace and wisdom to rule the Fire Nation. I am sure of it.” He tucks his hands into his robe sleeves and turns back to Zuko and Mai, who are looking at him with open mouths. “What?”

Zuko’s mouth works wordlessly for a moment before he finally speaks. “She’s just late manifesting, Uncle,” he says. “I mean, I didn’t bend until I was seven, and Mai’s a nonbender. We just…” he looks at Iroh’s face and stops. “You’re serious.”

“I thought you knew,” Iroh says, surprised. “It’s evident from the flow of chi within her that she is not destined to bend flame.” He frowns at Zuko. “That does not mean that she cannot be a wise and capable Fire Lord.”

“Yes, but the Fire Nation has _always_ has a firebender as Fire Lord,” Zuko says. “Even when nonbender children were born first, they were passed over in favor of firebenders.”

“Perhaps in your time, Zuko, but times are changing,” Iroh says. “While I doubt you would have been accepted by the people had you been a nonbender, we live now in peacetime where different values are needed to guide the Fire Nation.”

“True,” Mai says slowly, “but not everyone’s as optimistic or as open-minded as you, Iroh. We’ve reached a relative peace these past few years, but there are still pockets of dissidents raging about how we’ve ruined the Fire Nation.” She taps a finger against the table, clearly thinking. “Worst case scenario, this could spark off another civil war.”

“They might start trying to assassinate us again,” Zuko mutters. Mai elbows him hard, and he looks at her sheepishly. “I know, I know, you and the Kyoshi Warriors have been more effective in stopping them than any number of my firebender guards,” he says.

“Thank you,” Mai says acerbically. “Anyway, I’m not worried about Ursa protecting herself. What I am worried about, though, are stupid people, especially in the United Republic. The balance there is fragile enough, and the last thing we need are rogue firebenders attacking others in the name of patriotism or something. The Fire Nation doesn’t need more people to add the reputation of ‘murderous, bloodthirty killers’.”

“Surely the United Republic has jurisdiction over those cases, though,” Iroh points out. “What rebels do in the United Republic does not reflect on the Fire Nation as a whole.” He looks from Zuko to Mai, both of them bearing troubled expressions. “If you make it clear that Ursa is your crowned and legitimate heir,” Iroh continues, “then you will have the support of all those loyal to you, and the authorities in the United Republic besides. Aang will add his voice to yours, and that will quell opposition that you alone might not be able to.”

Mai looks sidelong at Zuko. “There _are_ plenty of years before she takes the throne,” she says slowly. “If we announce it now, the people will have decades to get used to the idea of a nonbender Fire Lord. We can hold this country until it’s ready for her to rule.”

Zuko exhales, rubbing at his forehead. “It’s not just that,” he says finally. “Ursa—she’s going to be _devastated._ She keeps asking me when she can firebend. She’s all these grand plans for firebending when it finally happens: dragons, flowers, giant waterfalls, you name it. You saw her with the other kids last summer, right? She was telling Kya and Lin about firebending and how they were all going to form a probending team together once she manifests.”

Mai places a hand on Zuko’s back. “Better that she learns early,” she advises, her voice soft. “There’s nothing as horrible as false hope. There are plenty of things she can learn other than firebending, but if she’s got her mind set on it all the time, she’s never going to get anywhere.”

He looks up at her. “I guess so,” he says, sounding glum.

They sit in silence for a moment. “I am sorry to be the bearer of such bad news,” Iroh says at last, but Zuko waves a hand at him.

“It’s not…” he begins before stopping, swallowing hard. “It’s just…it’s unexpected.” He pauses. “You’re sure about this.”

Iroh nods. Zuko accepts this answer without further question and looks at Mai, the two of them exchanging a long look. Mai places her hand on Zuko’s and squeezes briefly, and he nods.

“All right,” he says. He sits up straight and squares his shoulders. “When should we tell her?”

Mai puts her other hand on his chest, stopping him. “I’ll take this one,” she says. “She already wants to firebend so badly that it’s going to be about fifty times worse coming from you. Besides,” she adds with a stab at humor, “you’re not really known for your tact and delicacy.”

“And you are?” Zuko sputters, sounding indignant. Mai swats him, and the tension, if not broken, is at least disturbed by quiet laughter. It dies off quickly, though, and Zuko lets out a long breath. “Thank you for letting us know, Uncle,” he says finally, looking up at Iroh.

“The road to realizing one’s destiny is not an easy one,” Iroh tells him. “She must accept who she is. She isn’t a firebender, but that does not mean that she is less for it in any way.”

“I know _that_ ,” Zuko says, the side of his mouth turning down in a frown. He scrubs his hands through his hair and then bursts out, “It’s just hard, knowing what’s going to happen! I wish—I wish I could make it better.”

“Such is a parent’s burden,” Iroh says somberly. “We want to bring our children to happiness, but in the end it is all we can do to guide them in the direction we hope they will take.” As Zuko looks down, Iroh adds gently, “You found your way eventually, Zuko. In time, I am sure that she will do the same.”


	8. Dreams to Earth (Mai)

_Book II: Identity_

_Chapter 3: Dreams to Earth (Mai)_

((()))

Dreams, Mai reflects, are not an easy thing to lose.

“I hate you!” Ursa screams, the words muffled but no less sharp by the door between them. “You’re just jealous of Dad, and you’re jealous of me!” There’s the sound of something that’s no doubt hideously expensive splintering on the wall, and then the sobbing begins anew: deep, gut-wrenching sobs that sound like she’s gasping for breath with every cry. Mai fingers the key to Ursa’s door and leans her forehead against the smooth wood, breathing deeply. In, out, breath steady, face calm. She’s learned this from childhood, and old habits are hard to break.

“Ursa,” she calls, willing her voice to stay steady. “Are you ready to talk now?”

Wretched, broken sobs are her only answer. Mai allows herself the luxury of a deep breath before she slides the key in the lock and pushes the door open. The ambience really doesn’t suit the occasion, she thinks as she looks at the sobbing figure on the bed, still illuminated by the rays of the sun. There should be drawn drapes and dark depression, maybe some tragic music in the background. Real life has no appreciation for artistic concerns.

“Go away,” Ursa says between hiccupping sobs, curling up tighter around her pillow. “You’re just a liar.”

“What would I gain from lying about this?” Mai asks reasonably as she sits on the edge of the bed. “I’m not happy when you’re in pain, Ursa. Quite the opposite, actually.”

Logic does not seem to have much effect in the face of having one’s hopes and dreams crash down, and Ursa continues to cry into her pillow as if Mai hadn’t spoken. Mai reaches out a tentative hand to touch Ursa’s hair, but Ursa flinches away from her hand. “Don’t!” she screams, scrabbling up to the headboard, blankets clenched in white-knuckled hands. “Don’t touch me! You always wanted me to be a nonbender, don’t lie! That’s why you brought the Kyoshi Warriors here, isn’t it? So they could—so they could _infect_ me?”

“You know it doesn’t work like that,” Mai says softly.

“No,” Ursa says, breathing hard. “It has to. Dad’s a firebender, all the other Fire Lords were firebenders, _everyone_ on Dad’s side is a firebender.” Red-rimmed eyes fall to stare at Mai accusingly. “It’s you! You’re the one who’s not a firebender, that’s why I’m—that’s why I’m _useless_ —”

Actually, she does have quite a few firebending ancestors and relatives, but she senses that Ursa won’t take that piece of news kindly. More rankling is the use of the word “useless”, the assumption that any nonbender has nothing to contribute. “You’re not useless,” Mai says firmly. “Do you think Ty Lee is useless, or any of the Kyoshi Warriors? Do you think _I’m_ useless?” Ursa tugs the blankets over her head as her feet thump angrily on the covers, evidently refusing to answer. “Firebending is not the answer to all of life’s solutions, Ursa,” Mai continues. “It doesn’t grow crops, it doesn’t build houses, and it doesn’t keep peace among ten thousand angry people. In fact, it only makes them angrier. Who you are is much more important than whether or not you can bend.”

“You don’t understand,” comes the muffled reply. “You never cared! You’re not a firebender, so what do you know?”

The obvious retort, of course, is too cruel. “There have been plenty of people who have been firebenders,” Mai says instead, keeping her voice level. “And when they died, the only thing that mattered to those who came after was what they _did_ with their lives. If they were kind, if they were cruel, if they were wise or foolish. _That’s_ what really matters in a person.”

Quiet, hiccupping sobs greet her answer. Finally, Ursa says in a small voice, “Just go away, Mom.”

“I went away once already,” Mai says, and she had, at the very beginning of the discussion when Ursa had started throwing things, and that had been a _bad_ idea on so many levels. “I’m not leaving you again.”

“I don’t want you here!” Ursa cries, and Mai forces herself to keep her breathing steady. “Why won’t you leave me alone?”

“Because you’re in no shape to be alone,” Mai says.

“Well, I don’t need you!” Ursa shouts, emerging from the covers. “If it had been just Dad, I bet I would’ve been a firebender!” She scrubs at her tears with an angry hand as if they offend her. “Me and Jinxien and Riyo, we were going to all learn together; we were all going to firebend together. But you ruined it!” She stabs an accusing finger in Mai’s direction. “And now I’m going to be left alone while they learn everything, and it’s all because I’m so stupid and weak!”

Mai flicks her on the ear, and Ursa lets out a wounded yelp. “You’re not stupid,” Mai says reprovingly. “Don’t you ever say that, young lady. You know that you’re smart and that you’re a fast learner at anything you want to put your mind to. So what if you can’t firebend? I’ll teach you how to fight with knives, stiletto, sai. I’m sure Ty Lee and Suki will give you fan and katana lessons. We’ll even get Sokka here to teach you the boomerang if that’s what it takes. There are ten thousand ways to fight without bending, and if anyone ever calls you weak, you can pound them into the dust.” Not the most diplomatic of answers, but it’s true.

“I don’t want to learn anything from you,” Ursa mutters rebelliously.

“Well, too bad,” Mai says ruthlessly. “You can’t always get what you want.”

“You’re so mean!” Ursa shouts. “You’re a horrible mother!”

“It’s not my duty to spoil you,” Mai snaps back, matching fire for fire. Quiet and reasonable certainly isn’t getting her anywhere. “It’s my duty to teach you what’s right. And only valuing people by whether or not they can firebend is dead _wrong_ , and that includes valuing yourself.” She jabs a finger at Ursa. “So don’t let me hear you call yourself weak or stupid ever again.”

Ursa sniffles, long and loud. She ducks under the covers again, this time curling up into a tight ball. Mai reaches out and rubs her back, and this time Ursa doesn’t flinch away. Mai counts that as a minor victory.

“Maybe he’s wrong,” Ursa says after a while, after the sobs have faded to hiccups and slow, painful shudders. She lowers the blanket enough that her eyes shine through, bright with tears. “You said Uncle Iroh said it, right? But he doesn’t know everything. He could be wrong.” She looks at Mai, and Mai feels her heart fracture a little at the look of terrible hope on her face. “Just because I’m a year later than Dad doesn’t mean that I can’t bend. Maybe—maybe I just haven’t tried hard enough. Maybe if I work harder, it’ll come. Maybe if I just tried harder, or if I prayed more to the spirits, or if I studied harder—”

“No,” Mai says softly. “That’s not the way it works, Ursa.”

“You don’t know that,” Ursa insists angrily. “You’ve never tried.”

“Firebending isn’t a thing you can bargain for,” Mai says. “We’re born with what we have, and all we can do is accept it.” And now she sounds like Iroh, but it’s true—you can’t _buy_ bending like it’s on sale in some karmic marketplace. “You’re a Fire Nation princess, and one day you will be Fire Lord. You are smart. You have a strong sense of justice and responsibility. You crave to learn, to explore, and you’re nearly as stubborn as your father—and believe me, that’s saying something. You are my daughter, and I will always love you. That’s who you are. No more, no less.”

Ursa’s fists clench on the blankets. “I want to be a firebender, too.”

“And you’re not,” Mai says. “But that doesn’t stop you from being a good human being.”

“Being a good human being is stupid,” Ursa mumbles, hiding under the blankets again. Mai suppresses a sigh and continues to rub Ursa’s back in slow, methodic circles as periodic sobs work their way through Ursa’s system. How long she sits there, she doesn’t know: watching as the blankets rise and fall with her daughter’s breaths, watching as Ursa’s tight form gradually loosens, watching as the sun eventually sinks down below the horizon, providing the gloomy lighting that the situation warrants. Watching and waiting.

“I want…” Ursa says finally. “I want…” She rolls over to face Mai, the blanket curling around her head like a hood. “I want to bend so much,” she whispers into the darkness. “If only I tried…”

“No, sweetheart,” Mai says softly. “You can’t.”

There’s a certain painful finality to her words, and Ursa whimpers. She takes a gasping breath, curling in her knees close. “I can’t,” she breathes. “I can’t. I can’t I can’t I can’t _I can’t_ …”

The tears come again, sharp and bitter. Mai gathers her daughter into her arms, wrapping her tight and letting Ursa cry into her shoulder. Shudders run through the whole of Ursa’s being as she sobs out her disappointment and her rage, clinging tight to her mother as if she might never let go. Mai holds on and breathes deeply, willing strength to flow from her body to her daughter’s.

She closes her eyes, holding Ursa as she falls apart, her long-held dream shattering, falling asunder under the cold knife of fate. The tears are painful and wretched, but this time they feel—clean, almost. Purifying. Ursa is breaking apart, but hopefully this time, it’s a clean break. One that can begin to heal.

Ursa cries herself into exhaustion. Mai holds her even long after her legs have gone numb, feeling her chest rise and fall with each breath Ursa takes. As Ursa’s breathing evens out, Mai finally allows herself to settle Ursa onto the blankets, tucking her in carefully. Ursa’s face is still troubled in sleep, and Mai moves her thumb along the line of Ursa’s eyes, willing the lines to smooth away.

She settles down in the bed. Careful not to disturb the sleeping girl, Mai wraps an arm around Ursa and draws her close. She closes her eyes but doesn’t fall asleep, safeguarding her daughter’s dreams.

((()))

When Ursa stirs the next morning, Mai’s instantly awake. Ursa blinks at her through gunk-encrusted eyes, and Mai reaches out with a thumb and carefully works the worst of it away. “How do you feel?” she asks quietly.

Ursa mumbles something. Mai makes an inquiring noise, and Ursa says in a slightly louder voice, “Horrible.”

Her voice is hoarse and scratchy. “Let’s get some food into you,” Mai says, and Ursa gives a sluggish nod. “Chili rice and komodo sausage. We’ve still got some of Uncle Iroh’s tea left.”

“No tea,” Ursa mumbles.

“No tea, then,” Mai agrees. “Yes to the rice and sausage?”

Ursa nods against her chest, but she doesn’t otherwise move. The two of them lay quietly into bed for a while. Finally, Ursa says in a tiny voice, “I don’t hate you.”

Mai knew that, of course, but it’s still more of a relief than she thought it would be to hear the words. “I know,” she says.

“And you’re not a horrible mother.”

“Thank you.” She threads her fingers through Ursa’s hair, rubbing her scalp gently. Ursa lapses into silence, and Mai waits patiently. She’s good at waiting when it suits her to do so.

Finally, Ursa moves to sit up, and Mai follows suit, leaning against the headboard. Ursa looks down at the covers. “You were serious?” she says in a small voice. “I want to learn how to fight. I want to learn how to—how to be like you. You and Ty Lee and Suki.”

Mai reaches out and gently tilts Ursa’s chin up. “Of course I was serious,” she says. “I don’t make pointless offers. And I don’t suffer idiots, so it’s a good thing you’re not one."

Ursa leans up close to Mai. “Really?”

“Really really,” Mai confirms. “You can use some of my alternate gear until we get you your own set.”

Ursa nods. “Okay,” she says. “And Ty Lee and Suki?”

“Ty Lee already taught you chi blocking, didn’t she?” Mai asks, and Ursa nods again. “We’ll ask her for a refresher course. And then we’ll see about you spending some time with the Kyoshi Warriors, if that’s what you want. As long as you’re willing to learn, we’re willing to teach.” Ursa nods a third time and gives out a long sigh. It’s still a little shaky, but it’s steadier than Mai would have expected. She’s healing.

At length, Ursa straightens, looking apologetic. “I really need to pee,” she whispers.

Mai nods. “Bathroom first, then food,” she directs. She looks around the room, and her eyes fall on the shattered pieces of pottery by the wall, a victim of Ursa’s rampage the night before. No doubt it’s a priceless antique vase from generations of Fire Lords past, not that she’ll miss it. “And then you’re going to clean up the mess you made the night before.” Ursa’s gaze follows her gaze, and she blushes a little bit before giving a resolute nod. “And then,” Mai continues, “we’ll swing by my armory, and then I can show you how to fight with sai.”

Ursa leaps out of bed, a new haste fueling her actions. Mai watches her go, thoughts turning over in her head. She has to talk to Zuko; she has to bargain with councilors; she has to plan lessons for Ursa. It won’t be easy, she thinks finally, but it’ll work out. She allows herself a small, faintly sardonic smile at her own optimism.

She gets out of bed and stretches, turning to embrace the sun.

 

((()))

The next day, she sends an order to the royal blacksmiths: hidden stilettos and holsters, fine steel knives, and sai with the sharpest points that money can buy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I imagine that Mai and Zuko play Bad Cop and Good Cop respectively, but they both love their daughter ferociously in their own ways.
> 
> This follows more or less directly from the previous chapter. (There's a lapse of a couple hours, but nothing major.)


	9. Sisterhood in Four Acts (Suki)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprisingly, Suki's chapter is the longest so far. Who would've thought?

_Book II: Identity_

_Chapter 4: Sisterhood in Four Acts (Suki)_

((()))

_Spring_

Spring marks the trial of new candidates: seven young, fresh-faced girls aspiring to join the Kyoshi Warriors. At the request of Zuko and Mai, the Fire Nation princess, Ursa, has joined their number for this year. Suki walks the candidates through a rigorous training regimen, watching hawk-like to see who’s strong enough to make it and who isn’t. Some don’t take the Kyoshi garb or paint seriously, and she quickly corrects them. Some can’t take the punishing schedule and scarce rations, and they drop out. There’s a reason that the Kyoshi Warriors are among the best in the land, and Suki doesn’t intend to let them deteriorate in the least under her command.

They start out with eight girls including Ursa. By the end of the first month, only half go on to become initiates: Qingan, a flighty girl who nonetheless appears to have a streak of iron under all the airheadedness; Yufan, a small yet fiery initiate from Chin Village; Nadekasa, solid and silent; and Ursa. Suki looks them over with a professional eye. She’ll lose at least one more before they become full warriors, she predicts, probably Qingan or Nadekasa. Only the ones that persist until the very end will be able to bear the Kyoshi Warrior garb with the skill and dignity it deserves.

The four initiates are moved into a single small room, mats laid out neatly on the floor and their possessions, what little they have, tucked into corners. It’s a lesson into the camaraderie and closeness of the Kyoshi Warriors, because if nothing else, they are also a sisterhood bonded together by sweat, blood, and tears. Mostly tears, but who’s counting?

After training one day, Suki sits balancing on the fence outside the Kyoshi building, watching as silhouettes move to and fro inside the initiates’ room. The shadows are stark against the candlelight, and she doesn’t look up as Inora, her year-mate and second-in-command, joins her. “Remember when that was us?” Inora says. “All young and optimistic, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed…”

“We sure got that beaten out of us quickly,” Suki says. “I remember I hated you because you snored, and it was the worst thing when trying to go to sleep after a long day.”

“Ah, that’s your problem, isn’t it,” Inora says. “Clearly you weren’t working hard enough if you could still grumble.”

“Hey, I worked very hard!” Suki says. “I’d fight you over that statement, but we both know that you’d lose.” Inora shoves her, and Suki laughs. “Fine. Training room one, fans at dawn!”

“Got to give a good show for the little kids,” Inora says. “Try to last at least a couple minutes into the fight, Suki. It wouldn’t do to have the leader of the Kyoshi Warriors beaten into the dust.”

“Big words!” Suki says. “You’re on.”

They bump shoulders companionably, settling into a comfortable silence under the night sky and moon. Suki sighs and lets her head roll back, working the cricks out of her neck. She’s been all over the world in the course of her duties, but nothing’s as good as being home.

“So,” Inora says. “Any big plans for this year, great leader? Maybe we could go fight the great polar bear dog plague in the poles. Or is there another civil war in the Fire Nation that we need to stop? Say the word and away we go.”

“Nothing big that I know of so far,” Suki says with a shrug. “I mean, three of us will be stationed at the Fire Nation palace, but that’s the same way it’s been every year. No, I’m thinking it’ll be a quiet, low-key sort of year. Do some training, fight some bandits, keep Kyoshi Island safe. The usual.”

“Sounds positively idyllic,” Inora comments. “So what do you think of this year’s new crop of candidates? I’m liking Nadekasa. Did you see the size of her feet? Avatar Kyoshi would be proud, and she’s only nine! She’s going to have a massive growth spurt ahead of her, and us tall girls have to stick together.”

“They’re okay,” Suki allows. “Qingan’s made it so far, but we’ll see if she has the strength to make it through the years. Yufan talks a lot, but at least the rest of her moves as fast as her mouth. Nadekasa…well, we’ll see about her. Maybe she’ll loosen up as time goes on.”

“The Fire Nation girl isn’t bad either,” Inora says. She looks sidelong at Suki, a sly look in her eye. “She’s sturdy enough, and she doesn’t complain. Think the Fire Lord would notice if we kidnapped her and kept her for ourselves?”

“Ha!” Suki snorts. “Bet you Ty Lee would be more than happy to help with that idea, but Zuko already burned down this village once. Let’s not give him an excuse to do it again.”

“True enough,” Inora says, kicking her legs against the fence. “At least he paid us back for it. That was considerate of him. Wouldn’t have expected from someone in the Fire Nation, much less a prince, but the surprises just keep coming. Ty Lee’s awfully decent for someone who came from the land of the ashmakers.”

“Yeah, I don’t think these past few years turned out the way anyone ever expected them to,” Suki admits. “But with any luck, this’ll be a quiet year. Fingers crossed.”

“Yes sir, yes ma’am, yes great leader,” Inora says, throwing a (sloppy and incorrect) salute. Suki punches her in the shoulder, and Inora hops off the fence, laughing. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Suki,” she says. “Bright and early.”

“You heading to bed?” Suki asks.

“Yep. Michiko’s keeping it warm for me.”

“Have fun,” Suki says, waving a lazy hand. Inora blows her a kiss and heads off to her room. Suki stays for a moment more, watching and listening to the muffled chatter of young voices. They're still unfamiliar with each other, feeling out new ground.

She jumps off the fence, landing lightly in the dirt. They’ll become fast friends and sisters one day, she thinks. That is, if they don’t kill each other first.

((()))

_Summer_

Summer is the fire season, when the port of Kyoshi becomes busier than ever and the Kyoshi Warriors have their hands full trying to keep drunk idiots from destroying the town. The crowds hit their worst during the day of the Dragon Boat Festival, and Suki dispatches her warriors accordingly to keep order. She keeps the initiates with her, figuring that this is as good a debut mission as any. “Spread out, watch for unruly people,” she orders. “Don’t let visitors in past the beach line. If fights break out, call to one of us, don’t try to break it up yourselves.”

It’s not a bad crowd, as Dragon Boat Festival crowds go. She breaks up two fights, orders at least six children off the roofs, and keeps one idiot from impaling himself on his broken oar. The initiates do their share as well, carting the drunkards to the jail to cool off and cleaning up the pieces of the broken oar. When Qingan complains, Ursa tries to shush her, but Suki catches it anyway and gives Qingan a firm lecture. “Being a Kyoshi Warrior isn’t about glory,” she says sternly. “You’re not in this for your own fame or reputation. The Kyoshi Warriors fight to protect their people wherever they are needed, and if part of that means gathering up the splinters so no one can stab themselves with it, that’s what you’re going to do. Our duty is to this town, and we _will_ fulfill it.”

“You sound a lot like Dad,” Ursa tells her as they patrol the edge of the festival grounds.

“Oh yeah?” Suki says, intrigued. “In what way?”

“He talks a lot about duty and the people and how we have to protect them and making sure they’re not esploded by bandits and rebels,” she says.

“Esploded?” Suki repeats, bemused.

“Yeah,” Ursa says, waving a hand vaguely. “People can’t beat them up and take their stuff without them saying so.”

“…you mean exploited,” Suki says. Ursa shrugs.

“I heard that your dad’s mean,” Qingan interjects. Ursa gives her an indignant look, and she gives an exaggerated shrug. “That’s what Dad says! He hunted the Avatar all over the world and then he only joined him because his sister beat him up. Dad says he only became good because he was scared that a girl was going to win.”

“Hey!” Yufan says. “Girls are the best! That’s why we’re in the Kyoshi Warriors and boys aren’t. Your dad is stupid.”

“Don’t call my dad stupid!” Qingan yells. “ _You’re_ stupid!”

“Your _face_ is stupid!” Yufan retorts, the witty classic of children across the generations.

“Stop,” Suki says sternly, and the girls subside into sulky silence. “It doesn’t matter who we were. Whatever our pasts were, together we’re the Kyoshi Warriors now. We’ll only succeed if we’re working together.”

“I hated my past,” Nadekasa says, her one contribution to the conversation. Suki gives her a startled glance, but she doesn’t seem inclined to say more.

“Well,” Ursa says bracingly to the rest of of the girls, “Think of it this way! The more we do now to stop drunk people, the less puke we have to clean up later. And it’s a good thing we cleaned up the oar, because someone could’ve killed themselves with it. So we did good!”

None of the others seem particularly cheered up by this piece of optimism. “Maybe we should’ve just let them die,” Yufan mutters rebelliously. “It’d be more exciting than this.”

“Nah, we wouldn’t have been allowed to do anything fun,” Ursa says sagely. “We’re ‘nitiates. We’d be the ones cleaning up the dead bodies while the grown-ups do all the fun stuff.”

Suki has to keep a laugh from escaping as the initiates share world-weary looks, aged far past their prime by the injustices of the world. At least they’re united in their misery.

((()))

_Fall_

The leaves are in full red glory when Appa arrives, bearing on his back Aang, five-year-old Tenzin, and Sokka. “Suki, my shining jewel!” Sokka declares as he hops off of Appa and sweeps her into a dramatic kiss, and oh, it’s _good_ to see him, ridiculous smile and all. They’re kept apart much of the year by their respective duties, and while she knows that they’re both needed where they’re at, it doesn’t stop her from missing him sorely. “You are, as ever, a goddess among women,” Sokka rhapsodizes as he releases her. “Trapped in the cruel desert of Republic City, I find myself yearning for the taste of your sweet shores, o beauteous one—”

“Republic City isn’t a desert,” Aang interrupts. “And that’s a little more than I ever wanted to know about you and Suki.” He lifts his hands from Tenzin’s ears, and the little boy blinks up at his father bemusedly. “So now that Sokka’s done, say hi to Aunt Suki!”

Tenzin takes one look at her and buries his face in his father’s robes. Aang puts a hand on Tenzin’s shoulder. “It’s just Aunt Suki, Tenzin! Remember Aunt Suki? She’s a Kyoshi Warrior, one of the best there is!”

Suki crouches down to his level and holds out a hand, and it’s only after a very long moment that Tenzin lifts his head up. “Hi there,” she says. He stares at her hand for a moment but doesn’t move, and after a moment she withdraws her hand. “He’s quiet, isn’t he?”

“He’s just shy,” Aang says. “He’s a lot different from Kya or Bumi at that age, that’s for certain. Ooh, and guess what? Suki, I have the greatest news ever!” Next to him, Sokka rolls his eyes, clearly having heard Aang’s news enough times to become sick of it.

“Oh, yeah?” Suki asks, standing up.

“Tenzin’s an airbender!” Aang bursts out. “He bent for the first time a couple weeks ago. I mean, it was just a tiny puff of air, but he’s definitely an airbender!”

“Congratulations!” Suki says, meaning it. “Oh, you and Katara must be so proud!”

“And now the noble legacy of the airbenders will continue for all eternity, etcetera, etcetera,” Sokka says. “I’ve heard this spiel like ten times already. First I got the news from Katara via telegram, then the Air Acolyte representative on the Council won’t shut up about it, and then I had to hear it the whole trip here. It was horrible, Suki, just horrible.”

“Hey, don’t be mean!” Suki reproves. Sokka shrugs, grinning broadly and clearly not one bit repentant.

“Anyway, I thought I’d bring him here, show him around,” Aang says, not sounding bothered at all. He looks around with wide, eager eyes. “Are the elephant koi still around? I want to take him to ride one!”

“And then he’ll get eaten by the unagi,” Sokka whispers loudly. “And then the noble legacy of the airbenders will become the noble leftovers of unagi chow—”

This time, she whaps him in the back of his head with her fan. Lightly, of course, but that doesn’t stop him from moaning about it as they head up towards the village. “Quit whining,” she says as she shows him to his room. “Pain is weakness leaving the body.”

“Ooh, then I must be _extraordinarily_ buff,” he says, wagging his eyebrows up and down. He leans closer. “Come by later?”

“Let me show Aang and Tenzin to their rooms first,” she whispers back. Sokka nods and disappears into his room, and she turns to Aang and Tenzin. “Come on,” she says, beckoning, and they follow her obediently.

Tenzin really is a very quiet child; he doesn’t say a single word as Suki shows them to their rooms. She remembers that at that age, none of the other kids would ever shut up, and Lin was even wont to add earthbending to the mix if you ignored her. “Hey,” she says kindly once they’re there and Aang starts to unpack. “You okay there, Tenzin? You’re awful quiet.” He doesn’t say anything, looking up at her with huge eyes. “Is the face paint scaring you?” she asks. “We wear this in remembrance of Avatar Kyoshi, the creator of Kyoshi Island. It’s an honor to wear the style that she once had.”

He ducks his head. She looks at Aang, who shrugs. “Maybe he’ll loosen up a little if he talks to some other kids his own age,” he says. “Ever since moving back to the South Pole, it’s been hard for all the kids, but especially for him ‘cause he’s so shy. Are there any kids on Kyoshi Island his age?”

“Sure,” Suki says. “There’s Maya’s daughter, Lei, and Wu Yan’s son, Zheng. I can take him to meet them later.”

“Sounds good,” Aang says. “Hey, isn’t Ursa here too? Katara mentioned that Zuko wrote about how she’s staying here for a year. How’s she settling in?”

“Good, actually,” Suki says. “I would’ve thought that she’d drop out quickly, seeing as life here is so different from her life at the Fire Nation Palace. She’s sticking through with it well, though, and she’s become good friends with the other girls.” She looks at Tenzin. “She’s ten, though, so she’s probably a bit too old for Tenzin to relate to.”

“They’re only, what, four, five years apart?” Aang says with a shrug. “That’s not so bad.”

“That’s huge when you’re a kid,” Suki says. “Anyway, I’m sure Lei and Zheng will be happy to have a playmate.”

“Sure thing,” Aang says. “I’d like to take him on a tour of Kyoshi Island first, though.”

“Be my guest,” Suki says, waving a hand. Aang nods and takes Tenzin by the hand, leading him out the door. The little boy follows obediently enough, and Suki shakes her head a little at the sight.

She doesn’t linger long in Aang’s room, though, going instead to find Sokka. He’s still unpacking, his back turned towards the door as she slides it open and pads in noiselessly. “Boo,” she whispers into his ear, and he shrieks, flailing backwards. Suki bursts out into laughter at the sight. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist,” she says, holding a hand out to help him up.

“At least in Republic City they have the decency to smile at you before they stab you in the back,” Sokka grumbles. “Here I am for a relaxing vacation with my glorious wife who could easily kill me with her little finger, and instead I am beset by evil demons. Oh, woe is me—”

“Oh, shut up, Sokka,” she says, and then they’re kissing, fast and breathless and passionate.

She misses him when they’re apart, but it’s only when they’re back together that she realizes just how muchshe _wants_ him, body and soul. It’s the middle of the day, but Sokka’s hands are eager as they fumble at her Kyoshi garb, and she couldn’t care less that she’s still got the face paint on. He’s older now, but he still has that old boyish enthusiasm and energy that has her crying out with lust and love, not caring who hears her through the walls. Let them hear—the others have their relationships all year long, and she’s going to enjoy hers for all that it’s worth while she has the chance.

((()))

“Oooooooh,” Inora singsongs to her later that night. “So how’s the _boy_? Did you have _fun_?”

Grinning, Suki holds up three fingers. Inora claps her hands, howling with delight.

((()))

_Winter_

The snows of winter are thick, blanketing the whole of Kyoshi Island in a sea of serene white. Suki’s hopes of a quiet year are fulfilled with the peaceful celebration of the winter solstice: nothing blown up, stolen, set on fire, or otherwise ruined. She takes the opportunity to teach the initiates the art of moving silent and swift through snow, a skill that Ursa struggles to pick up, Qingan and Yufan do passably well at, and Nadekasa surprisingly excels at. Somewhere along the way, a snowball fight develops, an epic one that has almost everyone on Kyoshi Island taking sides.

“You’re going down!” Nadekasa shouts at Inora, drawn out of her taciturn shell by a snowball to the head. She reaches down and sweeps snow into her gloves, packing it hard and tight. Before she can throw it, a hand reaches up and yanks her out of the sight below the snow barricade. Behind their own snow wall, Inora bounces lightly on the balls of her feet, her cheeks flushed in the cold.

“Think they’re planning nefarious deeds?” Inora says to Suki, her breath coming out in white puffs.

“I’d feel bad about pummeling our initiates, but it actually looks like it’s shaping up to be a fair fight,” Suki says.

“And also, we’ve been doing that all year anyway, so it’s not like it’s anything new,” Inora says with a broad grin.

“That too,” Suki says agreeably. As snowballs fly around them, she peers cautiously out over the snow wall. There’s no sign of any of the children, and she frowns a little. “Think that they’ve given up—oof!”

A small body slams into her ankles, tripping her against the wall, and next to her Inora falls flat as well. Suki looks down to see Yufan and Qingan grinning up at her as they pin her down, one on each leg. Nadekasa straddles Inora and laughs in triumph as Ursa rains down snowballs from her position on top of the snow wall. “We’ve got you,” she declares. “Surrender now!”

Suki brushes snow out of her face and laughs, holding her hands up in defeat. The girls crow with victory, and Suki feels warm with approval despite the cold snow. They’re becoming a team, and that’s what’s important.

((()))

The thawing of ice brings with it the beginnings of change. To Suki’s pleasant surprise, all the initiates become apprentices, passing on from general training to the mentorship of one of their older sisters. To absolutely no one’s surprise, Inora takes Nadekasa under her wing, and Yufan and Qingan are adopted by Aiko and Jinyi respectively, twin sisters by birth and dependable warriors overall. For Ursa, a ship decked out in Fire Nation colors arrives.

When Ursa sees the ship, she disappears from the nearby vicinity, looking troubled. Suki finds her in the apprentices’ room later, twisting a length of Kyoshi braid in her hands. “You okay?” she asks quietly.

“I don’t want to go back,” Ursa says softly. “I—I like it here. I like being a Kyoshi Warrior; I like being with my sisters.” She looks down. “I like being _normal_.”

“Normal?” Suki asks, concerned. She sits down next to Ursa. “What do you mean?”

Ursa’s quiet for a long moment. “No one’s a bender here,” she whispers finally. “I can just be _me_ , and no one’s disappointed or mad at me.”

“Is Zuko giving you a hard time because you’re not a firebender?” Suki demands, ready to beat some sense into him if need be. Ursa shakes her head emphatically, but Suki doesn’t let her hackles settle. “Who, then?”

“Dad says he doesn’t care, and Mom says that she’ll look the other way if I beat anyone up who tries to tease me. It’s just…people,” Ursa says, waving a hand. “Cause I’m the Fire Nation princess, so I should be all, you know, fiery,” she says, twiddling her fingers in a vague circle. “But I can’t be, and so it’s just…I feel like I shouldn’t be princess, sometimes. Like someone else should do it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Suki says firmly. “You’re going to be a great Fire Lord. You’ve got the determination to make it through training, and that’s not an easy thing, believe me. You’ve become sisters with the fiercest warriors in the world in the space of a year, and you even made Nadekasa laugh. I’m proud to call you an honorary Kyoshi Warrior.”

Ursa giggles a little, looking moderately happier. “I haven’t even made it past apprentice yet!” she says, ducking her head.

“I’m sure you would pass with flying colors if you put your mind to it,” Suki says. “But you’ve got another apprenticeship waiting for you, one back at the Fire Nation. Just like our duty is to Kyoshi Island, yours is to the Fire Nation. That’s where the world needs you.”

“I know, I know,” Ursa sighs. “You really do sound like Dad.” She looks down at the braid in her hand, her face wistful.

Suki takes her hand, trapping the braid between their palms. “Keep it,” she says firmly, and Ursa looks up at her, clearly startled. “It’s a symbol of the strong bond of friendship between the Kyoshi Warriors and the Fire Nation.”

Ursa nods slowly and tightens her hand around the braid. “I’m honored to accept,” she says, bowing palm to palm, suddenly sounding much older than her eleven years of age.

Suki draws her into a tight hug. “We’ll always be here, and there will be three of us still at the Fire Nation palace if you need us,” she says fiercely. “We’re sisters now, and that’s a bond that can’t be broken.”

She feels Ursa smile against her shoulder. “Never,” she says, and the word sounds like a promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally set when Ursa was thirteen and featured a rather different storyline. Apparently Suki started _her_ training at eight, though, so everyone got de-aged a bit. (Ursa is ten/eleven here.) I'm pleased with the end result.


	10. The Many Uses of Firewater (Kya)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some underage drinking here: Kya is 15, Ursa is 14, and Lin is 12. On that note, apparently once you screw up the dates, you screw up _all the dates forever_. Apparently the ages of all the kids in relation to each other were given in a tie-in game, but I didn't know about that until way after the relevant chapters were written. So. I'm just going to use handwavey cause-I'm-the-Author magic over the official canon dates, and things will happen when they happen.

_Book II: Identity_

_Chapter 5: The Many Uses of Firewater (Kya)_

_  
_((()))

She’s used to these more-or-less annual family get togethers, but this year, the world has contrived to make them as unpleasant as humanly possible. Dad’s taken Tenzin off on another airbender field trip of awesomeness (whatever), the rest of the adults are doing Super Secret Adult things, and worst of all, she doesn’t even have Bumi for company. Bumi joined the army as soon as he became a Man ( _whatever_ ), and now she’s stuck here without him and with only her sort-of cousins for company.

So really, who can blame her for stealing a couple bottles of firewater from the storage room? They had it coming, really.

“It’s their own fault for leaving us here all alone,” Lin agrees, examining the bottles with interest. She looks around at all of them, flashing a grin. “I’ll do shots if you all will.”

“Dad is going to _murder_ us,” Ursa says, taking a bottle from Kya. “I think these were the special vintage he was saving for the Earth King. Oh, yup, it’s a 77 ASC. We’re all doomed.”

“Well, you’re Fire Nation princess and firewater is from the Fire Nation, so you have more of a right to this than King Kuei. At least, that’s what I think,” Kya says loftily as she takes the bottle back. She tugs at the corkscrew experimentally and frowns as it stays firmly stuck. Wedging the bottle between her knees, she tries again. Same result.

“I think you need a corkscrew or something,” Ursa says after a minute or two. “You can’t just pull them out. And for the record, I’m not drinking.”

“Oh, come on!” Kya says, yanking at the cork again. “Do you know what I had to go through to get these?”

“No, and I don’t care,” Ursa says, tossing her head. “This is such a bad idea on so many levels!”

“Wuss!” Lin says, flopping down on the ground and watching as Kya continues to struggle with the cork. “You going to run back to Mommy and Daddy and tattle?”

Ursa crosses her arms with a huff. “No! I’m not a snitch,” she says. “I have to make sure you guys don’t do anything stupid.” She turns her head away. “You can’t even open it, anyway.”

Kya scowls. “Of course I can.” She concentrates on the liquid inside the bottle—it’s probably not even mostly water, but there’s enough there that she can freeze it into an icicle and stab it upwards. She jumps back as the icicle impales the cork, wrenches it free, and keeps going all the way up to the ceiling. “See?” she says proudly. “Easy.”

“Show-off,” Ursa says. “Still not drinking.”

“Fine,” Kya says. “But you still have to play.”

“Play what?” Lin asks. She reaches for the bottle with eager hands, but Kya holds it back. “You’re no fun.”

“Truth or dare,” Kya says, feeling inspired. Her audience doesn’t seem to welcome this idea, as Lin snorts and Ursa groans. “Come on! It’ll be fun. You can either say truth, dare, or drink. If someone dares you and you back out, you have to take _two_ drinks. I play it with Bumi all the time, although we always do dares now since truths get boring after a while.”

“You drink all the time?” Ursa says, sounding properly horrified.

“Sure,” Kya says, feeling inordinately sophisticated. She leans back, keeping her tone casual. “Dad doesn’t drink and Mom barely does, but we know where to get it when we want it.” She shrugs. “And let’s face it, they’re too busy to really notice when we’re doing, anyway. Dad’s always off with Tenzin or doing Avatar-y stuff, and Mom goes along with him half the time. We take care of ourselves.”

“Enough wishy-washiness,” Lin declares, clapping her hands together. “Let’s do this.”

“Have _you_ had alcohol before?” Ursa asks Lin with a frown. “You seem awfully eager for this.”

“No, I’m just not a wuss like you are,” Lin says, and Ursa scowls darkly. “What, prissy princess is too good to drink with us?”

“Stop!” Kya declares. “Lin, don’t be mean. Ursa, come on. It’s just a couple drinks. No one’s going to get really wasted or anything.”

“You’re the oldest out of us all here,” Ursa cries, throwing up her hands. “Why do _I_ have to be the responsible one?”

“No one’s going to know,” Kya says coaxingly. “It’s not like I’m corrupting Lin beyond redemption or anything; Bumi’s been sneaking drinks since he was twelve. So what do you say? Just a few?” She waves the bottle of firewater in front of Ursa’s nose. “Come on. Or what, are you scared? Is your dad going to spank you if he finds out? The Fire Nation needs someone to stand up for it, but I guess you’re just too cowardly to—”

“Fine!” Ursa shouts. “Fine.” She crosses her arms, raising her chin up. “I’m not scared.”

“Good!” Kya says. She carefully pours firewater into three shot glasses and passes them out. “One shot to start us all off,” she directs, “and then we can start.” She brings her glass to her mouth and nearly gags at the powerful smell, but forces the reaction down. Keep it cool, Kya! “On the count of three, unless you all are scared!”

Ursa and Lin pick theirs up, Ursa wrinkling her nose. “Ew,” she comments. “I don’t know why King Kuei likes this stuff, I really don’t.”

“He has good taste,” Lin says, although she sounds a little dubious. She sniffs at it, and Kya notices the wince. “Wow, you weren’t kidding. Are my nose hairs on fire?”

“Backing out, Lin?”

Lin looks at her, grinning in a distinctly evil manner. “Never.” She downs her glass in one smooth gulpm and Kya raises an eyebrow, impressed despite herself. “I’m ready. Who’s going to ask me a question?”

Ursa’s still studying her glass like it holds all the secrets of the universe. Kya downs hers, wincing at the burning but determined not to show it. “Okay,” she says. “Truth, dare, or drink?”

“Dare,” Lin says promptly.

“I’ll start small,” Kya decides magnamiously. “Hmm. I dare you to…lick the floor. Wait, no. Lick Ursa’s face.”

“Ew, no!” Ursa sputters. “Keep me out of it.”

“Oh, quiet,” Lin says. Quick as a flash, she leans over and gives a hasty lick in Ursa’s general direction. Ursa blocks, and Lin’s tongue ends up swiping her arm as the firewater spills onto Ursa’s feet. “Well, I tried,” Lin says with a shrug. “I can’t help it if Ursa doesn’t play along. You should have to drink two glasses for spilling that, by the way..”

Ursa fastidiously wipes Lin’s spit off her arm, and Kya takes the empty glass out of her fingers. “Drink up,” she declares, pouring another glass and handing it over. “Come _on_ , Ursa, you said that you’d play.”

“I hate you all,” Ursa mutters as she stares down at the firewater. She lifts her glass and drinks it one tiny sip at a time, wincing all the while. “That was _gross_ ,” she says, setting the glass down.

“You’re not supposed to sip it. You have to toss it all down at once,” Kya explains. “Duh.”

“Whatever,” Ursa says. “People actually drink that on purpose?”

“Course,” Kya says. “So what about you? You want to go next? Lin can ask you.”

“I’m not taking Lin’s dares,” she says. “She’ll make me do something really stupid. I mean, more stupid than what we’re doing now, anyway.”

“You’re just scared,” Lin says. “It’s okay, you know, I’ll give you something easy so not to stain your pretty princess gown. I mean, between being a nonbender and being Fire Nation princess, we don’t want to give you anything that you can’t handle in your _delicate_ state.”

Ursa’s glares at Lin, her eyes narrowed. Her chin goes up, and a new expression crosses her face, defiant and proud and angry all at once. “Oh, it is _on!_ ” she says. “Fine. Dare. Bring it, earth girl!”

“Good girl!” Kya cheers, pouring a new round of drinks.

((()))

And somehow, somewhere along the line, it turns into this:

“Think she’s dead?” Lin mutters, swaying slightly as they peer into the depths of the cave. It’s dark inside and dark outside, and a shiver runs through her body at the night cold. “What did you say was in there, anyway? Dogs? That doesn’t sound bad. Dogs are cute.”

“ _Polar bear_ dogs,” Kya corrects. She shifts her grip on the torch and feels the firewater bottle tucked into her parka for reassurance. This is the second bottle of firewater (the first one is empty empty empty, sadly), and for some reason she is just so very _fond_ of this bottle. “They’re kind of scary,” she whispers loudly. “They eat people.”

“Ohhhh,” Lin says, evidently coming to some sort of drunk epiphany. “That’s not good. We should probably go after her.”

“Yeah,” Kya agrees. “We should.” She takes an experimental step, and the world doesn’t tilt too much out of shape. “Come on.”

The dare had been to…to do something with polar bear dogs. Eat them? No, that doesn’t make sense. Take their food? Take their… _oh_ , take their fur. A tuft of fur. Right. Ursa had gone into the cave about…well, a while ago, anyway, and she hasn’t come out yet. And that’s why they’re here. Right.

The cave is surprisingly deep, and Kya feels the cold settling into her bones. She shakes herself and lifts the torch, illuminating the walls. “Maybe we should mark the walls or something?” Lin muses in a slurred tone, and that just strikes Kya as being really, really funny. “What?”

“What, you want to pee on the walls or something?” she asks between giggles.

“No! Gross!” Lin says. “I’m going to do this.” She punches a first forward, and a pillar shoots out of the cave wall and slams into the other side, sending the entire cave rumbling. “There. Now we know where we’ve been.”

“Good idea!” Kya says, slapping her on the back. “Let’s keep going.”

The cave branches off once or twice, and the two of them huddle closer together as they descend deeper and deeper into the cave. Tipsy or not, Kya can’t stave off the growing sensation of uneasiness as they wend their way through the passages. Since when do polar bear dogs have such… _complicated_ dens? she wonders. This place is like a fire ant colony; it’s so deep and twisty down here…

She stops abruptly, and Lin bumps into her. “What?” she demands.

“Shh,” Kya whispers. “I think we found them.”

The dim light of her torch reveals at least half a dozen polar bear dogs, all sleeping. At least, she _hopes_ that they’re sleeping. “Ursaaaaa,” Lin whispers loudly. “Are you still here? Or are you dead?” She nudges Kya. “Think that they’re sleeping it off after a big meal?”

“Don’t say that!” Kya says. She tiptoes a little further into the room and waves the torch. “Ursa? You alive?” She edges her way around a sleeping polar bear dog and points the torch towards the far ends. “Ursa, you can stop hiding now…”

She sets her foot down onto something that is distinctly not rock, and she looks down with wide eyes to see something long and thin and furry under her foot. A soft, deadly growl from the other end informs her just exactly what it is she stepped on: a polar bear dog’s tail, connected to a polar bear dog’s butt, connected to a newly awake and—judging by the snarl—newly _displeased_ polar bear dog.

“Don’t move,” Kya whispers more to herself than anyone else, suddenly feeling very sober, and very, _very_ terrified. “Stand your ground. Running is a mark of prey and will cause the polar bear dog to give chase…” She eases her foot slowly off the polar bear dog’s tail. “Don’t look down, they smell fear, don’t let them get to you…”

She bumps into a distinctly solid, warm body behind her and freezes. The first polar bear dog advances towards her, and now there’s another polar bear dog behind her, and now they’re _all waking up_ …

To hell with logic, she decides wildly. “RUN!”

With strength and agility born out of sheer terror, she sidesteps the swipe that the second polar bear dog throws at her. Screaming, she and Lin hurtle out of the room. Kya holds the torch ahead of them in one shaky hand and fumbles to open her waterskin with the other hand, dumping the contents out onto the floor and freezing the water behind them as they run. The angry snarls behind them are punctuated by startled yips, but the ice doesn’t deter them that much if the continuing pounding of paws is any indication. Panting, Lin spins around and throws out her hands in a sharp movement. The walls of the cave contract sharply, sending a rain of rocks tumbling to block the polar bear dog pack off.

“Quick!” she gasps, grabbing Kya’s free hand. “Let’s move!”

“But Ursa’s still in there!” Kya shouts. “We can’t just leave her!”

Angry thuds from the other side of the cave-in tell them that the polar bear dogs, if anything, are more incensed than ever. “Let’s _go!_ ” Lin shouts.

They flee down the paths of the cave, following the parade of earth pillars jotting out from wall to wall. Kya risks a quick glance behind her, turning the torch in that direction, and yelps as she slams abruptly into a solid object. Still clasping hands, she and Lin tumble into the ground, and Kya yelps as her torch skids into a wall and goes out. There’s still light in the cave, though, coming from the light in Ursa’s hand— _Ursa!_ “You’re alive!” Kya shouts. “We thought you were dead!”

“Yeah, how did you survive the polar bear dogs?” Lin pants. “Thought a skinny nonbender like you would’ve been eaten for sure.”

“What’re you guys doing in here?” Ursa asks, looking confused. The torch throws her face into stark shadows, adding a whole new layer of eerieness to this expedition. “Weren’t you guys outside?”

“What are you _still_ doing in here?” Kya gasps. “How are you not dead? What happened?”

“I got the fur,” Ursa says, opening her hand to reveal a tuft of white fur. Kya stares down at it, wide-eyed. “I found a bunch of polar bear dogs back there and cut off some of their fur, but then I thought I’d explore a bit. I’ve never been in a cave like this before. Are those icicles hanging from the ceiling?”

Kya’s jaw dropped. “You wanted to _explore?_ ” she shrieks. “You were supposed to get a tuft! A tuft! _Fur!_ And then _out!_ ” She waves her hands around wildly, too incensed to speak clearly. “How are you still _alive?_ ”

“Guys,” Lin announces. The cave is vibrating, and growls are coming from the tunnels of darkness. “Fight later, we’ve got company!”

Ursa spins the torch in her hand around in a quick circle. “This way!”

She takes off running, and they follow her, the cave walls flashing by in a blur as they race through the damp passages. Kya’s starting to get a stitch in her side, but the pure adrenaline overwhelms the burning. There—up ahead—moonlight off snow, oh, fresh air, cold air, they’re out of here—

They burst out into the open air, panting and gasping. For a moment, it’s all she can do to stand there, taking in gulps of the cold night air and marveling that they’re still alive. Kya feels weak and shaky as the adrenaline leeches from her bones, and she staggers, bracing herself on the cave wall. “That,” she breathes, “was really dumb.”

“Let’s never do _that_ one again,” Lin agrees. She laughs, high and giddy, and Kya finds herself absurdly amused as well. She joins in, laughs wracking through her frame and shaking her hard. “That was _really_ dumb!”

“I know!” Ursa cries, laughing hysterically as well. “Let’s go into a polar bear dog cave and, I don’t know, say hi!” She doubles over, giggles bursting out of her, wild and unrestrained. “Whose moronic idea was it, anyway?”

Kya sobers abruptly. It had been her dare. Ursa had taken it, true, but Kya had been the one to propose it. “I didn’t think you were going to be in there that long,” she says defensively.

“I didn’t think you guys were going to come after me,” Ursa retorts, wiping her mouth.

“What the—what were we going to do, leave in there to rot? We were worried that you were dead!” Kya snaps. “You didn’t come out for the longest time, so of course we had to go in after you. And it turns out that you went _exploring_? How dumb is that?”

Ursa’s eyes grow wide. “Not much dumber than asking me to get a tuft of polar bear dog fur in the first place!” she says, her voice growing angry. “If I hadn’t been drunk, I would’ve never agreed ot it!”

“Oh, please, you’re not drunk,” Kya says haughtily. “You were barely tipsy. You just went because your stupid pride couldn’t take it. You’re just Bumi in that way. Do all nonbenders have such big chips on their shoulders? Always need to prove something—”

“And you don’t?” Ursa shouts back. “This whole thing was _your_ idea! You’re the one who wanted to drink and be all cool and— _watch out!_ ”

Kya spins around just as a giant polar bear dog lunges out of the darkness, teeth bared in a vicious snarl. Instinctively, she summons up the snow around it, creating a wall of ice between her and the polar bear dog that it abruptly smashes through. Kya screams as its teeth grab the hem of her parka, ripping it open in one swift movement. She flails at again, commanding the snow around its feet and freezing it to the ground. It’s still got her parka in its jaws, though, and she’s trying to shuck her parka off but it’s tangled up in her limbs now, and she can’t get free—

Fire blooms across her vision, startlingly bright against the darkness of night. The polar bear dog gives out a horrible yelp and shies away, letting her parka go. Hands grab her and pull her away from the polar bear dog’s reach. “ _Now_ , Lin!” a voice cries.

Kya raises her head enough to see Ursa crouched over her and Lin not far away, the latter slamming her palms to the earth. A disc of earth rumbles and lifts out of the ground, and then they’re zooming across the icy ground on a slice of tundra. Lin doesn’t stop for a long time, hopefully getting them far, _far_ away.

“Let’s never do that again,” Ursa whispers when they finally rumble to a stop. She rolls away from Kya and flops onto the ground, trembles running through her frame.

“No kidding,” Kya gasps. She lays there flat against the ground, sucking breath after breath into her lungs. Long moments pass by before she feels like she can breathe normally again.

“That was a really, _really_ dumb idea,” Lin adds, sounding just as winded.

“Was that you with the fire?” Kya asks finally, turning her head enough to look at Ursa. “That thing was going to eat me.”

Ursa lets out a shaky giggle. “Yeah. While you froze it to the ground, I grabbed the firewater from where it rolled, set it on fire, and then threw the whole thing at the polar bear dog. Then Lin made this giant disk and off we flew.”

She twiddles her fingers and falls back against the ground as well. “We didn’t fly,” Lin mumbles from her other side. “What do you take me for, an airbender? Pssh. What I did was way cooler.”

“Airbenders are so dumb,” Kya laughs. “They run away—well, we ran away, but we—we did it with _style_ and _earth_ and _fire—_ ”

“And water,” Ursa adds.

“All elements represent!” Lin gasps, pumping a fist weakly in the air.

And then they’re laughing again, wild and hysterical and dizzy with renewed adrenaline at the shock of still being alive.

((()))

“You okay?”

Kya looks up, bending the healing water back into the basin. “Yeah,” she says, holding her arm up. “Just a scratch. You scared the polar bear dog away before it could seriously hurt me.”

“Glad to be of service,” Ursa says, sitting down next to her on the bed. “Look, about earlier…”

Kya looks down. “I’m sorry that we taunted you into drinking firewater when you clearly didn’t want to,” she says. “And I’m sorry that I started the drinking game, and that I dared you to go into the cave.”

“Well, we didn’t die, I guess,” Ursa says. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out the polar bear dog fur. “I win, at least.”

Kya laughs ruefully as she takes the fur between her fingers. “Yeah, but it was…I was being seriously stupid. And I nearly did get us all killed.” She sighs. “I was trying to be…I don’t know. Cool, I guess. Someone not me.”

“Hey, I get what you feel,” Ursa says. “I’m a Fire Nation princess who’s a nonbender. You know there was a riot in two cities when they announced that I was still going to be Fire Lord?”

“ _Ouch_ ,” Kya says, the word heartfelt.

“Yeah,” Ursa says. “It sucks.” She flops back onto the bed. “I guess I’m still not over it, if I let your taunting get to me.”

“For the record, you probably saved my life today,” Kya says. “I probably would’ve gotten eaten if you hadn’t distracted it with the firewater.”

“All that good alcohol gone to waste,” Ursa says. As Kya laughs, Ursa adds, “And good riddance.”

“Hopefully no one ever finds the grave that Lin made for the bottles,” Kya says. “Let us never speak of this day again.”

“What a day it was!” Ursa says, spreading her hands in a grand gesture.

“Yeah,” Kya says. “Welcome to the South Pole, where you might get eaten!”

“But _boy_ , what a way to go,” Ursa adds, and the two of them burst out laughing. It’s not the hysterical laughter of earlier, which is a good thing.

When the laughter has died down, Ursa adds soberly, “Good thing our parents are still out. Dad would’ve seriously killed me if he’d found out what we’d been doing.”

“Lucky,” Kya murmurs.

Ursa raises an eyebrow. “Wow. Thanks.”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Kya said. “My dad…he’s not really around enough to care,” she says. “I mean, it’s nice when he’s here, but Tenzin’s the one spends all his time with.”

“That sucks,” Ursa says, patting her arm sympathetically. “Does Bumi feel the same way?”

“Are you kidding me? He went and joined the army as soon as he was old enough,” Kya says with a snort. “Couldn’t wait to get out of here.”

“Do you feel the same way?”

Kya gives a one-sided shrug. “Yes? No? Maybe. I don’t know. Here I’m just…I’m the Avatar’s daughter, which sounds cool but it really isn’t. It’s like I don’t even get my own identity or name, I’m just ‘the Avatar’s daughter’. The one who’s not the airbender.”

“So leave,” Ursa suggests. “Do what Bumi’s doing.”

“What, join the army?” Kya says with a frown. “I don’t know if that’s really my thing.”

“No,” Ursa says, rolling her eyes. “Go find yourself. Go explore the world or whatever. Become more than the Avatar’s daughter.”

“It’s not that easy,” Kya says, rubbing the back of her neck uneasily. “I mean…I’ve got roots here. Or something. It’s a big decision.”

“Well, you can’t really be happy unless you’re happy with yourself,” Ursa says. Kya raises an eyebrow at her, and Ursa shrugs. “I mean, that’s what I’ve figured out, anyway.”

Kya squints at her suspiciously. “You _are_ younger than me, right? I feel like I’ve just been lectured by Mom or something.”

 “I’ve had so much lecturing throughout my life that I’ve got to pass it on or else I’m going to explode,” Ursa says. She affects a gravelly tone that sounds sort of like Uncle Iroh. “Let me give unto you the wisdom I have acquired, young mantis-grasshopper. Drink heartily of this knowledge I give you and stop making stupid decisions with your life.”

Kya laughs and gives her a lopsided bow. “Yes, Sifu Ursa.”

“Yeah, you better call me that,” Ursa says, affecting a mock sneer. She laughs, her face relaxing. “Seriously, though.”

“I’ll think about it,” Kya says. “I mean, I probably will do it. Travel, I mean. Go be anonymous for a while. I can’t be the Avatar’s daughter for the rest of my life.”

“Well, as Fire Princess, let me extend a hearty invitation to you to our humble lands,” Ursa says. “We don’t have polar bear dogs, but we’ve got komodo rhinos and tigerdillos, both of which can easily eat you. Come around sometime and I’ll show you around.”

“Sounds like a deal,” Kya says, meaning it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for maligning the noble race of polar bear dogs. /hugs Naga


	11. Spirit of the Law (Toph)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Dark One is one of Toph's first metalbending students from _The Promise_ and is actually named Moo-Chee-Goo-Chee-La-Poo-Chee the Third. For obvious reasons, he uses a nickname.
> 
> Ursa is 18 and Lin is 16 here.

_Book III: Duty_

_Chapter 1: Spirit of the Law (Toph)_

_  
_((()))

The call is put in by the Dark One at four a.m., but all parents concerned are still awake. Zuko drives like a maniac, apparently, and Toph helps him by abusing police siren privilege for all it’s worth. They make it to the scene of the crime in record time. There, her officers are standing guard over a dozen sullen criminals entrenched up to their necks in earth and two others who, while not quite as criminal or as entrenched, are also sullen.

She can practically feel Zuko vibrating as he vaults out of the car. Mai behind him is slightly more composed, but her footsteps are still hastier than usual. “You’re safe,” he breathes as what is undoubtedly a touching father-daughter hug ensues. “Ursa,” he says, “I was so worried about you, I feared that you had been killed,” blah blah blah, so on and so forth, but Toph doesn’t care as she marches over to her own little miscreant.

“Hi Mom,” Lin says quietly.

“Lin,” Toph says. She reaches out and touches her daughter’s face, feeling for signs of injury. There’s a part on her scalp where Lin flinches as Toph presses down, and Toph frowns. “Did the healers check you out already?”

“Yeah,” Lin mumbles. “They already worked on me. It’s just the head thing now, and even that’s not a big deal.”

Toph sighs and smooths her hand along her daughter’s hair. “I’ll pound them into the dust later. First, you and I are going to have a serious talk, young lady. Take the Bushidos to the holding cells!” she calls out to her officers. “And you two—get into the car. We need to talk. You are in _so much trouble_ , you have no idea.”

“Really, Toph, is this the time?” Zuko demands. “They’re both clearly shaken, and they just handed the Bushido Squad and their headquarters to you on a platter. Can’t this wait till morning?”

“You want to pull diplomatic immunity on me, Sparky?” Toph asks, folding her arms. “Cause you can, and you can walk right away with your family. That’s not going to change the fact that there’s witnesses linking them to destruction of property, arson of a _temple_ , and two nice old people in the hospital. Should I send the bill to the Fire Nation palace or—”

“Dad, it’s fine,” Ursa says wearily. “We’ll go, Aunt Toph.”

“Sensible girl,” Toph says. “Now get into the car. Chop chop. Sparky, take us back to the police station.” She claims shotgun, and Mai squeezes in with Ursa and Lin in the back. Zuko grumbles under his breath, but he gets into the car and revs the engine. The drive back is considerably less frantic, and the two delinquents stay silent the whole ride.

The office isn’t as crowded as it is during normal business hours, but there’s certainly enough people there to watch their little happy parade march through the maze of desks. Toph lets them all into her office and closes the door before throwing herself down into her chair. There’s a long, protracted silence, and then Zuko coughs. “Right. I’ll turn on the light, shall I.”

“And that’s why you’re Fire Lord with that kind of thinking,” Toph says. She sighs and leans back in her chair. “Okay. So I’m going to regret this since it’s four in the morning—well, nearly five now, isn’t it, but you’re going to give me an account of what happened. All the details.”

“Toph, is this really—”

“You better believe it, Sparky,” she interrupts. “This is justice as it’s done in the big city, and here we’ve got rules. So, kids, start talking, unless you want to spend the night in jail.” Zuko’s practically giving off heat now, but she ignores him. “I’ve already heard Ela’s side of it, up to the point where you two disappeared off the grid for three days. Why don’t you start from there?”

Both Lin’s and Ursa’s hearts speed up. “Well,” Lin says finally. “So you know why we went into the bar then, right?” Zuko makes a stifled sound that sounds sort of like he’s squawking, but he wisely doesn’t say anything.

“Indulge me,” Toph says. “Why did you go into the bar?”

“Because Ela told us that’s where the Bushido Squad set as a payment center,” Ursa says. “And we wanted to confront them.”

“I told her it was a bad idea!” Lin says. “But then we didn’t actually confront them because I recognized Wakasi. He looks a lot like the witness profile composite, and I wanted to hear what he had to say.” She takes a deep breath.

Ursa takes up the reins of story. “He was talking to the Bushido Squad about a meeting with the boss, and how the money was all being funneled through the Blood Syndicate, and how it was slowly taking over the Bushido Squad’s territory.”

Blood Syndicate? That’s interesting. It’s a name they’ve been hearing more and more through the underground channels these past couple of months, and she wonders if the kids picked up anything about it. She stifles her interest, though, letting them squirm a bit more. Lin can try to seismic sense her all she wants; Toph taught her everything she knows and is _miles_ better at it.

“Well,” Lin says after a moment. “So. Uh. I know that’s something we’ve been hearing about a lot recently, so we’d thought we’d follow him once he left, see where the trail led. He went to a house that led to a garage, and Mom, there’s a _lot_ of metal stored there. Dull brass, copper, nothing precious. I think they were running a counterfeiting shop in addition to the extortion and protection rackets they have going on. I could tell there was water nearby, too. We followed the path a bit—it’s slick with ice, which is probably why it’s gone under our seismic radar—and eventually found that it leads to an underground dock connected to the river.”

“We did consider getting out at that point,” Ursa ventures. “But then we thought that we’d just sneak around a bit more and find out what and where things were getting shipped. We were going to come straight to you with the findings, I swear, but then the thugs appeared…”

Toph props her chin on her hands and listens to the tale that unfolds. It’s actually a great deal more duller than the results would suggest: after sneaking into headquarters, they were confronted by men which they had promptly beaten up, only by then the gates had sealed and their only choice ( _obviously_ ) was to sneak onto a ship. From that, they’d sailed straight into the Bushido Squad’s headquarters, where they’d found Ela’s daughter along with three other kidnap victims. The Bushido Squad, not taking kindly to intruders, had attacked, and then they tried to escape, only to find out that the Bushido Squad had their headquarters below a temple and two other stores that were apparently perfectly legitimate (Toph resolves to check their books just in case). There had been a misunderstanding about that, though, resulting in the assault of the store owners as they’d smashed their way up through one of those stores to escape. Then they had been cornered in the temple, and someone had kicked the lamp stands over in the heat of battle, resulting in the fire…

Really, it’s not nearly as bad as she would’ve thought.

As Ursa peters off into silence, Toph lets the moment draw on. She can sense the kids shifting nervously in their chairs, and Zuko’s probably about to explode with anticipation. Sure enough, after a minute he bursts out, “Toph, you can’t possibly book them—”

“Shhhh,” Toph says, holding up a finger, and she can feel Mai nudging him into silence. She lets him stew a little while longer before getting up from her nice comfy chair and heading to the door, stepping outside to the aide who’s been nervously hovering outside for the past ten minutes. She closes the door behind her and turns towards him. “Speak,” she commands.

The aide lowers his head to her ear and whispers, quick and furious. She honestly doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the news. “Acknowledged. Now go,” she orders, and he scuttles away, apparently all too happy to leave. She opens the doorknob and heads back inside, gratified to know that her guests, adorable miscreants and angry parents alike, have stayed silent in her absence. She takes her time settling back into her chair, and after another long moment, turns towards Lin. “Daughter of mine,” she says.

“Yes, Mom,” Lin says obediently.

“In the underground garage by the docks, the one with the gates. These gates were made out of metal, correct?”

“…yes,” Lin says.

“You couldn’t have metalbended them open and gotten out?”

Lin’s silent. “I wouldn’t let her,” Ursa says quickly. “I went into the boat anyway, and she’s the one who wouldn’t leave me.” Defiantly, she adds, “And I’d do it again. We had to find Ela’s daughter.”

“Ah, yes, the case of Ela,” Toph says. “Instead of passing it onto us, the nice people at the shiny police station, her petition languished on your desk in the Fire Nation Embassy, effectively vanishing from the eyes of the people who could do anything about it. In fact, we might not have _known_ about Ela at all if she hadn’t come to us two days ago when we put the call out. So in the course of your vigilante justice, you ruined thousands of yuan worth of private and public property—”

“We saved lives!” Ursa shouts.

“—no doubt pissed off whatever spirits frolic in the temple that burned down—”

“Toph, be reasonable,” Zuko says.

“—put two apparently innocent old people in the hospital—”

“We only knocked them out!” Lin yelps.

“—and to make matters worse, rumor is spreading across my city that you are _heroes_. Why why _why_ did you have to rescue kidnap victims who are _journalists_. I hate journalists. They get into everything and make life so much harder, and now one of them has put a story out on the newswire that is praising you two to the high heavens for saving his sorry skin.”

“It’s not six yet,” Mai says. “You can stop the presses.”

“Whose side are you on?” Zuko asks indignantly.

Toph angles a death glare in his general direction. “You see, big things happen with a temple burns down. The gongs ring, priests get angry, and apparently the spirits are angry too, because it’s been picked up by four papers at last count. And guess when the morning papers are delivered. That’s right, _now._ ”

“We had to do it,” Ursa says. There’s a pause, and then she amends, “Well, _I_ had to do it, anyway, and the only thing I regret is dragging Lin into it.”

“You didn’t have to twist my arm,” Lin mutters. “Once I heard the words ‘Blood Syndicate,’ I was in.”

Ursa continues. “Ela was petitioning for protection as a Fire Nation citizen from the triads extorting protection money,” she says. “They were threatening her home and business, and her daughter had been kidnapped. It’s my job to protect her.”

“You are here as part of the Fire Nation _Embassy_ ,” Toph snaps. “Not a member of the Fire Nation Secret Crusaders for Moronic Justice. Your job is to handle relations between the Fire Nation and the United Republic, not to launch a vigilante campaign and strike out for justice of your own!”

“Actually, it doesn’t even extend to that,” Mai remarks mildly. “She’s not here in an ambassador capacity. Officially, she’s a tourist.”

“Mom!” Ursa says.

“Thank you, Knives, that’s very helpful,” Toph says. “So between destruction of private and public property, assault, and spiritual desecration—you can thank Twinkletoes for that one, by the way, he’s the one who insisted on it for all temples in the United Republic—how do you think that ranks on the justice scale? A year in jail? Two? _All eternity?_ ”

The pause is pregnant. It gives birth to an awful lot of babies, all of them too scared to breathe. She can faintly smell burning wood from where Zuko’s hands are tight on the chair’s armrests.

“Girls, wait outside,” Mai commands. It’s a mark of how scary Mai must be that they stand up without protest and shuffle out. Toph waves a hand and does a little earthbending on the door to make sure that Lin can’t eavesdrop before she turns back to Mai. The smell of burning wood is getting stronger, and Mai lays a hand on Zuko’s and turns towards Toph. “The press trucks don’t go _out_ until six. That’s a good half-hour away,” Mai says, her voice calm and deadpan. “You can still shut them down with a word.” She pauses. “You didn’t.”

“I believe in a free press,” Toph says virtuously. “What would society be without it?”

The chair creaks as Zuko exhales. _Ding,_ Toph thinks. Good boy. “Public outcry will be huge,” Zuko says slowly. “The Bushido Squad has had an iron grip on this city for the past year, using blackmail and kidnapping to keep control.” He pauses. “And Ursa and Lin took them out all by themselves.” There’s a definite hint of smugness in his voice.

“It’s kind of impressive, actually,” Toph says, leaning back in her chair. “Makes my officers look bad, to tell you the truth. Of course, I guess we don’t get the luxury of breaking into private houses. Something about warrants and laws and respecting people’s privacy. So inconvenient.”

“The store owners can be recompensed,” Mai says. “They were only knocked out, which makes the job of mollifying them a good deal easier, particularly if they’re recompensed with cash. The temple will be a bit trickier, but the spirits evidently had a hand in this battle since the Bushido Squad was subdued within their territory. It was a sacrifice they were willing to make to protect their people.”

“That’s awfully considerate of them,” Toph says with a nod. “I always like my guiding spirits to care about me, too.”

“They had good intentions at heart,” Zuko adds, referring to Lin and Ursa. “Ela’s a Fire Nation citizen. It shows that the Fire Princess is willing to stand up for her people in times of need. Lin too, except that in her case it’s all those living within the protection of Republic City.”

“We live in such charming times,” Toph sighs. “Everyone just one big happy family.” She beams at them before letting it slide off her face abruptly. “All that said and done, that doesn’t change the fact that they shouldn’t have done what they did.”

“Wait, what?” Zuko says. “Haven’t we just established that they saved people and took down a crime syndicate?”

“They were hotheaded and reckless,” Toph says.

“What she did was right!” Zuko snaps, leaping to his daughter’s defense.

It’s annoying. Sweet, but annoying, and also completely wrong. “Is she going to become the sole decider of what’s right and what isn’t?” Toph retorts. “She got lucky this time, Zuko. If the store owners had died, that’s murder of innocents on her hands. That’s a whole different ballgame, and you can’t handwave that with fancy words. We have laws for a reason. You may be Fire Lord, but even you can’t twist laws in the Fire Nation to fit whatever you think is right, and neither can Ursa. Is your daughter going to be a ruler, or is she going to become a tyrant?”

Zuko falls silent. His heartbeat is angry and frantic and he’s breathing hard, but he doesn’t say anything. Mai puts a hand on his shoulder, holding him down as he squirms in his chair like a giant overgrown child. She’s right, of course, and he has sense enough at least to not protest again. Toph listens as his heart eventually slows down, his breathing evening out.

He gives a sigh, and she knows that she’s won. “When did you get so world-wise, Toph?” he asks, sounding tired. “You’re the one who hated the rules more than anyone else when we were kids.”

“I grew up and became police chief,” Toph says. “The pay’s horrible, but the armor’s neat and I get to shout at people all day.”

“So,” Mai says at length. “What do you propose?”

“We do this the formal way,” Toph says. “I’ll arrest them, pop them into the cells and let their heels cool off a bit. Meanwhile, let the press do their thing, fluffing up their heroism as much as possible. You can submit a petition for pardons from the Council—better yet, ask Ela’s kid or that stupid journalist to do it. You can pull some strings to get the process accelerated if you want, so they don’t have to stay there for too long. They come out of it with some heroic scars and great stories to tell the grandkids. And hopefully, a sense of responsibility and restraint.”

“You’d arrest your own kid?” Zuko says, sounding faintly amazed.

“Lin’s going to be police chief someday,” Toph says, keeping her tone nonchalant. “She might as well see where she’s chucking people into.”

“She’s only sixteen,” Zuko says. “You’ve got some big plans for her already.”

“You should talk, _Fire Lord_ ,” Toph says pointedly, and that shuts him up. She cracks her knuckles. “So. Are we ready to drag the kids in?”

Zuko sighs. “Sure,” he says at last, sounding resigned. “Let’s get this over with.”

((()))

Pretty much everything plays out as she’d predicted—the overly sappy news articles, the tearful testimonials, the promises from the Fire Nation, and the pardons from the Council. Of course it would; she’s a genius. The whole mess wraps up pretty quickly: all told, the process takes about a week and a half. Ten days in jail, and neither kid seems overly worse for the wear.

Zuko and Mai haul their little delinquent back to the Embassy, and the Dark One drives Lin and Toph home after she retrieves her daughter from jail. “See you tomorrow, chief,” he says as they get out. “Bright and early.”

“Yup,” Toph says. They’ve begun assembling notes on the Blood Syndicate, using information gleaned from Lin’s story. “See you around.” She closes the door and he drives off, leaving her and Lin on the curb. She heads for the door and unwelds it from the frame, heading inside. Lin follows her mutely, welding the door shut after her as Toph heads into the kitchen.

“So,” she says. “How about pig-chicken for dinner tonight? I picked up a couple legs on my way home last night because I knew you’d be hungry. Prison food sucks.”

“Mom,” Lin says tentatively, and it’s strange to hear her bold, precocious daughter sound so unsure of herself. “Are you mad at me?”

“No,” Toph says without hesitation. “You were stupid, but you meant well. That’s better than being stupid and meaning harm.” She takes a breath. “How badly were you hurt?”

“Just the bump on my head, really. I got cut up a bit by the glass, but the healers took care of that before you got there.” Lin’s quiet for a moment, and then she adds, “You should’ve seen the other guys.”

“I did. You did a good job.”

“Ursa helped,” Lin says.

“Don’t be modest,” Toph says. “It’s not becoming.”

“And I had a great teacher,” Lin amends, and Toph gives her a curt nod. Lin’s fidgeting, leaning against the counter with feigned casualness, but Toph can sense the tension in her body. “Mom,” she says.

“Yes,” Toph answers.

Lin takes a deep breath. “Mom, I—”

Toph holds her arms out, and Lin falls into them. Toph buries her face into her daughter’s shoulder and inhales deeply, breathing that earthy scent that only Beifongs can have. She’d been worried. She’d been _so_ _worried_. Three days without any word except that hysterical Fire Nation woman. She’d sent officers everywhere, tried to extend her seismic sense until she’d gotten headaches. Nothing until the Dark One had called, and when she’d first picked up the phone she had been so afraid that he was going to tell her that the bodies had been found, and could she please come down and identify her daughter—

“Don’t you ever do that again,” she says fiercely. “You want to pull a stunt like that, you tell me first, you understand? I’ll come with you and we’ll beat them up ten times over. Never, _ever_ do that to me again.”

Lin gives a watery laugh. “I thought I wasn’t supposed to do it at all,” she says.

“You’re not,” she says. “But if you _have_ to—and you better not have to—you tell me first. Come and find me, and we’ll do it together. That’s a Beifong promise.”

“Stronger than steel,” Lin whispers.

Toph tightens her arms around Lin, and Lin clings to her as if she might never let go. “I’m glad you’re home safe and sound,” Toph says. “I couldn’t sleep without your snoring.”

“I don’t snore!” Lin protests, but there’s a smile in her voice. “Anyway, _you_ should talk, Mom.”

“I’m your mother. I get to snore however loud I want,” Toph declares. She pulls back and runs a hand across her daughter’s face, feeling the strong features and stubborn chin, much like her own. Lin doesn’t flinch when Toph presses down on the place on her scalp, and Toph nods in satisfaction. “I guess those waterbenders aren’t completely useless after all.”

“Like I said, you should’ve seen the other guys,” Lin says, straightening up. “Ursa and I took on at least twelve guys, at least seven of which could bend. We beat the _crap_ out of them.”

Toph chortles. “Kid, never let anyone know I said this, but they completely deserved whatever you gave them. So how’d the fight go? Tell me. I want all the details.”

As the two of them work on dinner side by side, Toph lets Lin’s words wash over her, bright and avid and filled with familiar energy and verve. She’s home now, safe and sound, and Toph’s never been more relieved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Blood Syndicate is a vague reference to Yakone. By using handwavey-math-magic, I figured that Ursa would be about twenty at the time of Yakone's trial. It's not terribly important to the overall story though (I was going to say plot, but who are we kidding, there's no overall plot to this fic). 
> 
> Updates will be slowing down a bit. Despite my best efforts to the contrary, these chapters are getting longer and my life is getting busier.


	12. Tea and Therapy (Lin)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I first started this fic, I thought, "Oh, it'll be about 20k words, I guess, I'll hit 25k if I'm really lucky." HAHAHA nope.
> 
> This takes place from when Lin is 20-25. Ursa is 22-27 here. The events that Aang talks about are detailed in _The Promise_. Also, I screwed up so much re: Pema's age (I thought that she was just a super young-looking person, but surprise, it turns out that she is actually that much younger than Tenzin), so...uh...just imagine that she's aged up to be just two or three years shy of Tenzin? idk. /hides

_Book III: Duty_

_Chapter 2: Tea and Therapy (Lin)_

((()))

In all honesty, Lin never really cared for tea as a kid. Mom drinks it sometimes, and of course Uncle Iroh’s famous for his devotion to it, but she never really took to it as a child. Strictly speaking, she doesn’t _hate_ it; it’s just not something that she’ll go out of her way to drink.

It’s strange to think, then, that she’s developed a more-or-less taste for it out of sheer exposure. It starts at Chen Long’s Tea Emporium in uptown Republic City, coindentally more or less equidistant from the police station and the Fire Nation embassy. Ursa likes tea, ergo, they meet in a teashop every Saturday afternoon. Three o’ clock sharp, and whoever’s late pays.

“I mean, we could go someplace else if you’d rather,” Ursa says the first time they meet there. “Uncle Iroh’s friends with the proprietor of this place, though, and he recommends this place pretty highly.”

“Well, I guess these prices recommend themselves,” Lin says after perusing the menu with a dubious eye. “Since when did you like tea, anyway? I remember vaguely that you hated it as a kid.”

“I did, but between Uncle Iroh and Dad, it was really sort of unavoidable,” Ursa says, and Lin has to admit that as arguments go, that one’s a little hard to beat. “Oooh, they have steamed buns here! How about pig-chicken buns?”

“My weak spot,” Lin grumbles. But she eats one or two (or five) when they arrive, and she eventually drinks the tea as well, and really, it’s not as bad as she remembers.

And the rest, as the saying goes, is history.

((()))

The weather outside is cooperatively matching their moods: dark and gray, with stormclouds on the horizon. “He says that he ‘misfiled’ the case. What kind of fresh incompetence is this?” Lin grumbles, swirling her tea with a finger moodily. “Now I have to rewrite the entire thing, and that includes getting all the photos developed again. I should stuff them up his face and see if he misfiles them then.”

“Hey, at least you get to yell at people,” Ursa says, sounding more glum than angry as she nurses her tea, long gone lukewarm. “Being ambassador means that I have to smile a lot even when I’m talking to people that are stupid beyond belief. Check this out.” Lin watches as she puts on a smile, bright and cheery and somehow even managing to reach her eyes.

“Impressive,” Lin says. “Even your eyes look real. How’d you do that?”

With a sigh, Ursa lets it fall off her face and returns to a glum frown. “Practice,” Ursa says. “Lots and lots of practice. It’s not like I haven’t had plenty of opportunity this past year. And then at night I imagine slapping every single politician who annoys me in the face with a fish to give me the strength to do it all over again the next day. Which means I’d go through a lot of fish, I think.”

“Can you see the headlines that would cause?” Lin snorts. “‘Fire Nation Ambassador assaults pompous jerk with dolphin-trout. Crowds cheer, parades are held, and war ensues.’”

“But it would feel so _good_ ,” Ursa says with a longing sigh.

“Hey, if it makes you feel better, I can’t exactly beat Rozin up either,” Lin offers. “He’s not my boss, but I’d still probably get written up for it.” She pauses. “Although I guess it would be a small price to pay. If he fumbles a witness interrogation one more time, I swear that I’m going to metalbend him to the wall and leave him there. I’m still a rookie and I bet I could do a better job.”

“Isn’t he a metalbender, too?”

“He’s a lousy one, and his earthbending sucks too. Can’t earthbend his way out a grave. Which I might put him in at some point. Is it police brutality if I do it to a fellow policeman?”

“Maybe not, but I think it still applies as attempted murder,” Ursa says, and Lin sighs. “Might even get sent to jail for that.”

“Been there, done that,” Lin says, and they share a smirk across the table.

“If these were the old days and if you both were firebenders, you could challenge him to an Agni Kai, I guess,” Ursa muses. “Nothing like a good old-fashioned beatdown to let out tension, and you get to make fancy speeches about honor while you’re at it. Too bad Dad outlawed them.”

“Your dad has no power here,” Lin says. “Welcome to the United Republic.”

“Also, you’re not firebenders, and also, an Agni Kai is a dumb idea. You know, I think we’re supposed to be adults or something,” Ursa confides. “Something about being able to solve your problems peacefully and, you know, not starting hundred-year-wars and wiping out entire cultures.”

“Being an adult sucks,” Lin says with a sigh.

“Yet somehow, we muddle through,” Ursa says.

((()))

Ursa’s usually pretty punctual, and what makes it all the more maddening is the momentuous news that Lin wants to share and the fact that she can’t share it because the sharee is not present. By the time Ursa enters the teashop, she’s a whole ten minutes late, and Lin can’t help but give her a dark scowl. “Sorry!” Ursa bursts out, holding her hands up. “I got caught up talking with Raisho about sugar exports. The man nitpicks down to the last yuan, which I guess makes him a good negotiator but an extremely annoying person to—”

“Yes, yes, very interesting,” Lin says. “Guess what.”

Ursa blinks at her. “Sugar is important, you know. I’ll have you know that over sixty point four million yuan was made last year just from the tax imports on it alone. Forty-two percent from unrefined sugar. I know that. Why do I know that?”

“Shh,” Lin says. “It’s not as important as this. Guess!”

Ursa sighs and signals for the waitress. They’ve been here often enough that the servers here know their orders, and Ursa’s usual is brought over quickly: ginseng green tea with just a dab of honey and lemon. “Fine. You’ve saved Republic City from a giant squid-eel attack,” she says. “You’ve joined a pro-bending team. You’ve…I don’t know, murdered the Council and replaced them all with giant puppets made out of sawdust. Am I close? Please tell me I’m close.”

“Think much, _much_ bigger,” Lin says with a satisfied grin. She leans back in her chair, savoring the moment. “I made sergeant.”

Ursa’s eyes grow gratifyingly wide, and she stops her teacup mid-lift, setting it abruptly back onto the table. “Lin!” she says. “Congratulations! Wait, what did Rozin’s face look like?” she asks. “Tell me that he burst into tears and ran away sobbing.”

She grins, and Lin knows that the expression is mirrored on her own face as she savors the memory. “Nothing that melodramatic, unfortunately,” she says. “His face did turn this hideous shade of red and then he started shouting about how Jiang Nian only promoted me because Mom’s chief. So I finally gave him that long-deserved rant about his lousy closure rate, his witness abuse, and the fact that he’a gigantic bully who backstabbed his way up the ranks.” She gives a satisfied sigh. “I think he shed a glorious tear or two as he ran out the door.”

“There’s that Beifong modesty I know and love,” Ursa says, and Lin smirks at her. “I’m glad you did it. Haven’t you been just itching to rant at him for weeks?”

“ _Months_ ,” Lin says. “It couldn’t happen soon enough.”

“Sergeant Beifong,” Ursa says in a musing tone. “You’re already terrifying enough; now they’ve just given you all the power in the world. Sergeant at twenty-two!”

“Yeah, you’d better watch it,” Lin says with an evil grin. “Jail awaits those who look at me cross-eyed, and you’re first on the list.”

“Nice try,” Ursa says, waving a hand. “I’ve got actual diplomatic immunity now as a part of the Fire Nation Embassy, so I am immune to your diabolical schemes.” The two of them stare at each other for a moment, deadpan, before their facades crack at the same time and they burst into laughter. “No, seriously though, Lin, that’s fantastic news!” Ursa says. “We’ve got to celebrate. Dinner tonight, on me?”

“Can’t tonight,” Lin says. “Part of being sergeant means I’ve got to organize the night roster. I actually should be going; I have to get back to the office. Tomorrow sound good? You’re already paying for today, remember.”

“As if you’d let me forget,” Ursa says, smiling. “You made time just for tea. I guess I should feel flattered about that.”

Lin polishes off her last beef-pork bun and stands up, pulling on her jacket. “Of course,” she says. “As if there was another option."

((()))

She is Lieutenant Lin Beifong of the elite Metalbending Police Force with a case closure rate most people can only dream of. She’s the daughter of the greatest earthbender alive, and she herself is possibly the second-greatest earth and metalbender there is. She is also, at this particular moment, holed up in the basement of her home, too tired to even destroy the last couple photos of her and Tenzin together. She’s already made a public statement with the trashing of Air Temple Island, but she just doesn’t have the energy to continue eradicating him from her house.

“Wow,” a voice says. “You are a mess.”

She swivels around to glare at the intruder with bloodshot eyes. Ursa stands before her, dressed not in Fire Nation colors but in the brown and black of Republic City. “How did you get in here?” Lin demands.

“Your mom,” Ursa says. “She unwelded the doors for me. How long have you been hiding in the basement?”

“Go away,” Lin says.

“No,” Ursa says, her tone absent as she looks around. The basement is a mess, but Lin doesn’t care—it’s her mess and she likes it this way, thank you very much. “Sweet Agni, this place is a wreck,” Ursa continues, apparently oblivious to the hate-filled glare that Lin’s sending her way. “How long has it been since you’ve eaten anything? Showered? Seen fresh air?”

“Don’t you have important ambassador duties to do?” Lin demands. “I thought you had an all-day meeting with the Council today.”

“That was yesterday,” Ursa informs her, “and then reports came in about explosions on Air Temple Island, and that disbanded the meeting like you wouldn’t _believe_. Your mom said to give you some time, but you’ve been in here for long enough.” She comes over and grabs Lin’s arm, and Lin snaps at her. “What are you, twelve? Come on, let’s go.”

“Go where?” Lin says with a scowl. “If you think that I should apologize to Tenzin or Pema, you can go and shove his head up her—”

“Go take a shower,” Ursa directs, throwing a wad of fabric at her. Lin untangles the fabric and stares at it: it’s a clean set of clothes. “I brought food, but you need to get clean before I’ll let you at it.”

“I don’t need food,” Lin says rebelliously, clutching the clothes to her chest. “I am fueled by rage and hatred and a desire to rip Pema into fifty pieces and bury Tenzin alive while I’m at it.”

“ _Shower_ ,” Ursa says firmly. “You smell.”

“ _You_ smell,” Lin mumbles, but she stands up. She can hear Ursa tidying up behind her as she staggers to the bathroom. It unsettles her a little, having Ursa in her basement den when it’s in such a state, but she supposes that it’s nothing that Ursa hasn’t really seen before. They’ve been in each other’s messes often enough, after all.

She won’t ever admit it, but the water does feel really good as it cleans away dried sweat and dirt and rage. With clean clothes against clean skin, she feels marginally more human again and (maybe) slightly more civil. Ursa’s not in the basement when she emerges, and Lin wanders upstairs to find Ursa sitting at the kitchen table. There’s rice and pig-chicken and honey tea on a tray, and Ursa pushes it across to her. The smells awaken a startlingly strong hunger in Lin, and she finds herself eating eagerly, leaving the tea for last. It’s still warm when she picks it up, and she holds it for a moment, letting the heat from the cup soothe her.

“I would’ve thought that we’d go to someplace…different,” Lin says finally. She’d feel suspicious if she weren’t so suddenly exhausted. Hatred takes up a surprising amount of energy, it seems. “Like a bar or something, where I’d get completely stinking drunk and wake up naked with three different people in the morning.”

“We could do something like that if you really want to,” Ursa says. “I mean, I don’t advise it, but we could if that would help you forget about Tenzin.”

Lin scowls at the mention of his name. “I’d do it if I thought he’d cry about it,” she says, scraping her chopsticks across her bowl.

“Living well is the best revenge,” Ursa says, holding a finger up. Lin levels a death glare at her. “Oh well, it was worth a shot.”

“I mean, I knew that we’d been drifting apart,” Lin says. “I’ve had to pull a couple of double shifts, and he’s busy starting to take over administration of Air Temple Island. But we could have worked past all of that! Do you know _why_ he broke up with me?”

“Do tell,” Ursa says, her voice dry enough to rival a desert.

“He wants kids,” Lin bursts out. “I mean, he said something about different life goals or whatever, but in the end he dumped me because I said no to kids. What does that even mean? Was he with me because he thought I was going to be some—I don’t know, some broodmare for the next generation of airbenders? And once I said no, he didn’t see any value in me anymore? What kind of jerk thinks that?”

“I’m sure he didn’t put it in quite those terms,” Ursa says. “I mean, you two did have different goals in life. He probably feels a lot of responsibility as he’ll be the last airbender after Uncle Aang dies, and you know, he sort of has to have kids, I guess? Unless Kya or Bumi spawn a miracle or something.”

“So he never liked me as a woman,” Lin says, staring morosely into her cup. “Or I guess he liked me only for my woman bits.”

“Nobody said that,” Ursa sighs. “Look, the problem here is that you and Tenzin want different things. If you’d continued down that road, the resentment would’ve just grown and grown until it became this giant festering sore, so it’s best that you ended now.”

Lin growls and scrubs at her hair. “I hate it when you’re reasonable.”

“You know you love me,” Ursa says serenely.

Lin sticks out her tongue at her, and Ursa rolls her eyes. “You know, I don’t even know why I put up with him,” Lin mutters, returning to the subject of Tenzin. “He never wanted to talk about our problems head-on. Typical airbender. He’d run away and I’d have to chase after him, and then he’d run away all over again. But the worst thing, the _absolute_ worst thing, was that sometimes he wouldn’t. Run away, I mean. He’d be thoughtful and quiet and serious and…you know, that’s what I really liked about him, that you wouldn’t even think that you have a problem until he comes in and solves it for you. Like I didn’t know how sore I was at the end of a work day until he started offering me back massages, and it really helped work the kinks out.” She sighs. “And then we’d have sex, and that was _great_.” Darkly, she adds, “I bet he and Pema are having sex right now.”

“Actually, they’re probably still cleaning up Air Temple Island,” Ursa says. “You really did a number on that place, you know.”

“Good,” Lin mutters. “I hope they’re picking splinters out of their teeth for weeks. No, years. No, _forever._ ”

“That’s it, let it all out,” Ursa says soothingly.

“Okay, now I sense you’re being vaguely smug,” Lin grumbles. “When do you pick up a guy? I want to see you fall apart and sob melodramatically. I bet that you’d cry. And then you’d slice him to pieces, but first you’d cry.”

Ursa snorts. “I’m the Fire Nation princess,” she says. “I’ll end with with a Fire Nation noble who can firebend like nobody’s business and has excellent teeth. Either that or it’ll be a diplomatic marriage with either Water Tribe or Earth Kingdom royalty, but I’d place my bets on the Fire Nation noble.”

Lin stares. “Didn’t your parents marry for love?”

Ursa waves a hand. “They did, but Mom was a noble before she married Dad, and Dad can firebend so it wasn’t as much of a priority that Mom can’t. And they both have great dental hygiene, I’ll have you know.”

“That’s so…depressing,” Lin says. “It doesn’t bother you at all?”

“A little?” Ursa says with a shrug. “I try not think about it. It’s not like I haven’t met a couple of nice men who would be royal-approved. It’ll happen when it happens.”

“You’re very calm about all this,” Lin says accusingly.

“Hey, this tea-and-therapy session is about you, not me. If you like, you can return the favor whenever I get my heart broken by some horrible man.”

“Men suck,” Lin says, heartfelt.

Ursa pats her arm sympathetically. “That they do. More tea?”

((()))

“And he expects me to just stand by and smile while he continues to turn a blind eye!” Ursa shouts. Lin leans back in the face of Ursa’s rage, keeping one eye on the teakettle on the portable stove. “I told Luen that I suspected Renshen of messing with the numbers, and he has the _gall_ to not even follow up on it, but to actually _promote_ the man. The accounts that I do have access to clearly don’t match up with the expenditures. I’ll bet you anything that the official Council records are even more skewed as he siphons the money into, I don’t know, his private criminal enterprise. Sixteen thousand yuan were missing the last month alone!”

“So bring it to us,” Lin says, spreading her hands. ‘We’ll take care of it. We have a forensic accounting unit for this purpose, you know.”

Ursa sighs, slumping back against the wall. “It’s an embassy issue,” she says, still sounding irritated. “The Fire Nation is supposed to handle these things internally. And I would love to handle it, except Luen is my boss and he’s choosing to just twiddle this thumbs about this while Renshen fills his pockets.”

“You’re the _princess_ ,” Lin says, not unreasonably she thinks. “Shouldn’t that override whatever rank he has?”

“I’m still bound by the embassy chain of command,” Ursa says with a scowl. “Technically, I’m still only a junior minister. Which is a kind of ambassador, but it’s still not high enough to overrule Mr. High-and-Mighty himself. And since Renshen is Luen’s personal assistant—well, ha, he’s the ‘Minister of Welfare Relations’ now, that’s a glorious mess right there—I don’t have the authority to kick him out.”

Lin stands up, judging that the water’s hot enough. She sets out two cups and puts a generous sprinkling of tea leaves in each cup—green for Ursa, oolong for her. “So who does the auditing for the Embassy?” she asks, carefully pouring the water in. “Have them pore over the books.”

“Luen’s supposed to send a full account back to the Fire Nation palace at the end of each season,” Ursa says slowly. “Wait. Do you think he’s a part of this? Maybe that’s why the accountants back home haven’t noticed. I don’t have access to all the records, but even I could notice that something was wrong when comparing the records. I find it hard to believe that the auditors at home haven’t.”

“It’s entirely possible,” Lin says. “Maybe he doctors them before they’re send back. You’re comparing the embassy books against those of the Council’s?”

“Some of them. I don’t have access to the ones that Lu Zhou keeps,” Ursa says. “And the organizations that we fund like the Cultural Center and the Quen Yang Medical Center. The numbers going into their books aren’t nearly as big as the numbers going out of ours.”

“So gather up all the records you can, document them, and send them back to the palace for further accounting,” Lin instructs. “If Luen won’t cooperate, then go over his head.” She hands a cup to Ursa. “Corruption is a rot that gets everywhere, and the faster you get to the heart of this matter, the better.”

Ursa inhales the steam from the tea deeply and falls into a chair, closing her eyes. She’s quiet for a moment as she sips from it. Lin adds a little honey to her tea and drinks it with a contented sigh. Just the way she likes it.

When Ursa opens her eyes again, they blaze gold with clear purpose. “I’m off,” she says, setting her teacup down on the table. “Might as well start collecting the records now while it’s still daylight. I’ll see you later, Lin.”

Lin waves a hand at her, and Ursa sweeps out of her office majestically. Lin sets her own teacup aside and rolls her head, getting the cricks out of her neck. Well, she thinks. Tea break’s over. Back to work.

She strides out the door and down to the lobby, where her officers have been waiting for the past fifteen minutes. “Second patrol, let’s go,” she orders. “Crime waits for no man.”

((()))

Tea on Air Temple Island is the first time that she and Tenzin have been together in close quarters ever since he broke her heart, and Lin finds it surprisingly difficult not to leap across the table and claw his eyes out. Only Ursa’s solid presence by her side and the fact that they’re having tea with Uncle Aang, Aunt Katara, Uncle Sokka, and Mom as well prevent her from doing so. “I fully expect her to make captain within the next year,” Mom’s saying to the others, and Lin tries to focus on her words instead of murdering Tenzin.

“And thus, another generation of Beifongs terrorizes Republic City,” Uncle Sokka says with a grand gesture. He dodges the rock that Mom sends his way. “Congratulations, though, really. Always knew you could do it.”

“I’m not captain yet,” Lin says. “We have to wait for Akira to retire first, at least.”

“He’s getting arthritis; he’ll keel over soon,” Mom says, waving a hand. “I have full faith that the board will see fit to your rapid promotion.”

“Our tax yuans at work,” Uncle Sokka says. “I’m so proud.”

“So how's your work at the embassy?” Aunt Katara asks, turning to Ursa. “I remember wading into the nightmare of diplomacy back in the early days. That’s one thing I’m happy to leave behind. Training young waterbenders is a walk in the park compared to dealing with angry people who think far too much of themselves.”

“It’s not so bad,” Ursa says with a shrug. “Mostly it’s just a lot of trying to get people to actually talk to each other like reasonable adults.”

“Ha!” Uncle Sokka says. “I remember when your dad and King Kuei almost started up the war again because they wouldn’t do just that.”

“Really?” Ursa says with a frown. “He never told me that.”

“It wasn’t that simple,” Uncle Aang says with a sigh. He turns to Ursa. “It was the near of the Harmony Restoration movement. At that time, we thought that peace would be as simple as making the Fire Nation colonials return to the Earth Kingdom, but Yu Dao proved that the colonies had been there for far too long to remove and the cultures were too intermixed. Zuko found this out before the rest of us, though, and he withdrew his support without bothering to tell any of us. Things just sort of spiraled out of control.” He pulls a sheepish face. “It took a while before we got things sorted out.”

“Learn from the stupid mistakes your dad made,” Uncle Sokka says with a sage nod. “Cause he sure made a lot.”

“Sokka!” Aunt Katara says, and then Uncle Sokka’s sputtering as Aunt Katara waterbends a tea snowball into his face. A laugh escapes Lin before she can stop it.

“Still my glorious sister,” Uncle Sokka declares as he throws an arm around Aunt Katara and wipes his face off with the other hand. “Even your gray hairs shine with magnificence.”

“Surely Aang’s head is more magnificent,” Mom says. “Especially now that he and Tenzin are a matching set! Not that I’d know what they look like, but I’m sure they’re all high-and-mighty and Air Nomad-y.”

Lin’s head turns involuntarily to look at Tenzin, who’s dressed in his Air Nomad robes with the gleaming blue tattoos on his head. “They’re the mark of his airbending mastery,” Uncle Aang says, sounding proud. “The first in over a hundred years.”

“Aang had to look up how to do them,” Aunt Katara says. “And they turned out wonderfully.”

“Yeah, I wanted to make sure I did a good job,” Uncle Aang says. “Seeing as they’re kind of obvious if you mess them up.”

“And you were so nervous and you prepared for so long, but I knew you’d do a great job, sweetie,” Aunt Katara says, resting her head against Uncle Aang’s shoulder.

Uncle Sokka rolls his eyes at the sight and turns to Lin with a wicked smile. “So, Lin,” he says. “How’s the beat been? You meet any nice guys?”

“Oh, stop baiting them, Sokka,” Aunt Katara scolds. She turns to Lin. “I hope that you and Pema can work out your differences someday. You’re both very lovely young women.”

Lin grits her teeth, and she can feel Ursa subtly placing an arm on hers under the table to calm her down. “Yes, Aunt Katara,” Lin says, and she drinks some tea to keep herself from saying more.

“Well, how about the coming decorations, then, eh?” Uncle Sokka says. “Did you see the beginnings of construction down in the quarry? Aang, your statue’s just a head right now, and let me tell you, it’s just bizarre to see a giant Aang-head sitting there on the ground. I want to poke it with a stick sometimes.”

“Oh, man,” Uncle Aang says, covering his face. “I told them not to build those statues. I’m never going to be able to enter Republic City again with a straight face.”

“They’re building statues of all of us,” Mom announces smugly. “Mine’s going to be wearing metal armor. I wanted to have a bunch of bad guys suspended behind me crying their eyes out, but the committee vetoed that idea. Completely unreasonable of them.”

“I don’t even want to know what my statue looks like,” Aunt Katara says with a groan. “Sokka, does yours have a boomerang?”

“Of course,” Uncle Sokka says with a satisfied smile. “I told them to put it in. And yours looks super cool, by the way, they’re going to build it around a massive fountain that spurts water in ten directions.”

“Ten,” Aunt Katara says. “Really.”

“Any fewer wouldn’t do your magnificence justice,” Uncle Sokka says, and Aunt Katara’s eyebrows raise. “Oh, and tell your dad that his statue makes him look a lot more buff than he really is,” he says to Ursa. “All the young ladies of the future are going to get the wrong impression.”

“Hey, I don’t know, Sokka,” Aunt Katara says in a teasing tone. “Zuko did look really great with his shirt off back when we were young, and he’s not too bad now either—”

“Ahem!” Uncle Aang coughs.

“—but of course, Aang is the most handsome of them all, and bulging biceps are grossly overrated,” Aunt Katara adds hastily with a grin. Beside Lin, Ursa covers her face. “You’re all the man I need, sweetie,” Aunt Katara says, pulling Aang in close for another kiss.

“Ewww,” Sokka says. Lin and Ursa and Tenzin, well versed in what happens next, all chorus together with his next word. “Oogies!”

Uncle Sokka gets hit with another tea snowball as they all burst out into laughter. Tenzin might still be on the blacklist, but Lin will admit that it’s good to be here with her family.

((()))

There’s a tea vendor in Republic City Park, and Lin buys a milk tea for herself and a jasmine tea for Ursa. “So,” she says as she returns to the bench and hands Ursa her drink. “What’s the big news?”

Ursa’s quiet for a moment as the breeze plays over her face, throwing her hair awry. “I’m leaving Republic City,” she says.

Lin freezes with her mouth on the straw. She lifts her head away and swallows past the sudden lump in her throat. “Oh,” she says. “Any particular reason?”

“I’m being rotated back to the Fire Nation,” Ursa says, staring out over the pond. “It’s time that I started taking a more active role in the domestic side of running a nation, seeing as I’ll be doing it full-time some day.”

“Now?” Lin asks. “You’re only twenty-seven.”

“Which is actually kind of late, considering Dad took up the role when he was sixteen,” Ursa says. “I mean, he’s still going to rule for quite a while yet, but I need to take up some of the responsibility as well. We’re thinking that they’ll send us to the outer provinces to begin with.”

“We? Us?”

“Mom. Dad. Me.” She sighs. “And whoever I marry.”

“They’re starting to pressure you about that?”

“Yeah. The Fire Nation needs an heir. It’s sort of an important royal duty.” Ursa brushes her hair away from her face. “So I’ll spend a couple months getting courted left and right until I have to choose, and then off to administration in the Outer Islands I go.”

Lin sets her tea down in her lap, suddenly not thirsty anymore. “Maybe you’ll meet someone nice,” she offers weakly. “You said that there were a couple eligible nice men, didn’t you?”

“I did,” Ursa says, sounding reluctant. “I just haven’t met them in years.” She fiddles with her straw. “I went back home last summer, but this time it’s different. It feels like…it feels like my life is really about to begin. What I was born to _do_ is about to begin, and it’s terrifying.”

“You’ve been handling politicians and fighting for your country’s interests for years,” Lin says. “If that’s not part of ruling, what is?”

“Well, it’s a bit more complicated,” Ursa says. “Here I’m one out of four countries all trying to work and live together and make a new land together. Back home, it’s…it’s home, you know? It’s who I am and who I’m supposed to be. There’s this giant weight of a million ancestors all staring at me and just waiting for me to trip up as the first nonbending Fire Lord. I mean, not that I’ll be Fire Lord for decades, hopefully, but I just _know_ that they’re placing bets in the afterlife.”

Lin reaches out and twines her hand with Ursa’s in a firm grip, and Ursa looks at her with a rueful smile. “You tell those ancestors to go stuff themselves,” Lin says decisively. “You’re going to be great at ruling. And if any—or all—of the men they show you are horrible, destroy them. Then come to me and we’ll have tea.”

Ursa laughs. “Making good on your promise?”

“I’m a Beifong. Breaking promises isn’t an option,” Lin declares. “Faces, on the other hand, are a whole other story.”

Ursa squeezes her hand. “I’ll hold you to that, then,” she says quietly.

They sit by the pond together with the tea forgotten in their laps, watching the turtleducks swim by. The city moves busily around them, but sitting here with Ursa, Lin can pretend that time stands still.


	13. Letters from Home (Bumi)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies about the delay: I have been both sick and busy, which is a fantastic combination that everyone should try out at some point in their lives. Anyway, back to your not-so-regularly scheduled rendition of "This-One-Person-Grows-Up-and-a-Lot-of-Other-People-Talk-About-Feeeeeelings". Hoorah!

_Book III: Duty_

_Chapter 3: Letters from Home (Bumi)_

((()))

_Dear Bumi_ ,

_Sweetheart, how have you been? It’s been ages since I’ve heard from you, but hopefully this letter will get to you since I hear that you’ve been been deployed to the Fire Nation in the wake of the tsunami there. Dad has been going crazy sending telegrams back and forth with your uncle trying to sort everything out between the rebuilding and the raiders. If we’re this stressed in the far reaches of the South Pole, I can’t imagine what it must be like on the site itself. Remember to take regular breaks and stay hydrated!_

_Are you coming home this winter? Dad says that the current timetable is to finish construction by mid-to-late winter, which hopefully means that you’d be free to take a couple weeks’ leave. Kya’s already written to say that she’s staying in Ba Sing Se for the time being, but I hope that you’ll come by and celebrate the winter festival with us. It’s been nearly two years since we’ve last seen you, and letters wouldn’t be enough even if you weren’t posted out to sea six months out of twelve._

_Take care of yourself, honey, and eat healthy and exercise often!_

_Love you,_

_Mom_

(()))

The horn calls out in the middle of the night, and Bumi snaps to instant, alert wakefulness. “Eastern shore!” comes the cry, and Bumi rolls himself upright and starts looking for his boots. From the bedroll next to him, Koji helpfully lights the lamp with a flick of his hand, looking sleepy and disgruntled. “What timing is this?” he mumbles. “It’s the middle of the night!”

“What better time for a pirate raid?” Bumi declares as he yanks his boots on. “Come on, slacker, the siren call of duty summons you.”

“I’d rather fall into the warm bosom of sleep,” Sheng mutters from Koji’s other side. “I was having a great dream.”

“Yeah, about his girl back in Omashu,” Koji croons. “Of her silken raven hair flowing through his fingers, her plush lips whispering his name, her juicy peaches warm in his—”

Growling, Sheng punches a rock towards Koji, and the firebender deflects it with a lazy swipe of fire. Bumi steps into the fray, throwing his arms out grandly. “Put aside your juvenile differences, men, and look to the stars. Today, there is glory! Or tonight, I suppose, but same principle applies.”

“Who gave the lieutenant happy juice?” Payuk wonders as he pulls on his jacket.

Bumi flashes his fellow soldier a dashing smile. “Son,” he says, “I will have you know that they shovel that stuff down your throat before they let you into any position of power. Secrets of the corruption behind the United Army; aren’t you glad you know?” He strides out the door to their makeshift dormitory, knowing that they’ll follow him.

Sheng’s still yawning as they head out towards the ship, but it quickly snaps off his face as Captain Ayumi, looking remarkably sharp for someone who’s been dragged out of bed in the middle of the night, faces them and the rest of the crew. She gives Bumi a curt nod of acknowledgement as he steps up next to her. “The _Phoenix_ reports at least four pirate ships,” she says. Her voice isn’t loud, but like ink into water, it has a certain way of making itself very obvious. Quite enviable, really. “Two are close to making landfall while the other two engage the _Phoenix_. They’re working on falling back towards the caves, but better that they don’t have to. We’re to take the _Tianshen_ and cut them off before they get there.”

“Nothing I enjoy more than ruining some pirate’s day,” Bumi says. “Or night, as it were.”

She gives him a sharp nod. “Ensign Meitan, set a course towards Shell Cove. Payuk, tell the engineers to get the secondary propellers working. All hands to battle stations. Let’s move!”

They work like a well-oiled team: they’ve been together for over a decade, now, and they know each other like family. They speed towards Shell Cove in record time, and Bumi can see lights on the shore muddling about in near-chaos as the civilians are ushered towards the caves. The pirates are close to making landfall, and Bumi grins with anticipation when he sees them. “Get us closer to those ships,” Ayumi orders Payuk. “We’ll pepper them with a couple dozen rounds from the cannons, and then work with Kada to make us an ice bridge so we can board.” She turns to Bumi. “You’ll lead the boarding party. Call the cannon fire when we’re close enough.”

“Nothing I like better, ma’am,” Bumi says as he throws a crisp salute.

A large part of battle, any battle, is waiting, punctuated by moments of sheer terror and adrenaline. Bumi settles into the anticipatory hush as they draw closer, sleek and silent in the waters. The _Tianshen_ is built for stealth, and he’s never been prouder of his girl as they swoop in for the kill. When he judges that they’re close enough, Bumi draws a deep breath. “Fire!” he roars.

Fire, both firebender and cannon-made, streaks across towards the pirate ships. Kada and Payuk raise their arms in perfect synchrony, and Bumi laughs wildly as he jumps onto the ice bridge they create, sliding his way towards the enemy ships. A pirate firebender leaps forward to melt the ice bridge, and Bumi slams a bucket over his head and kicks him overboard. Bumi doesn’t need bending, not when he’s got his sword in his hand and his troops at his back, slicing their way through surprised pirates like a hot knife through butter.

Between the _Phoenix_ , the _Tianshen_ , and the beach defenders, the pirates don’t last very long. There are a number of wounds on their side, but Kada’s trained in waterbending healing, and Weishan and Akio are both medics as well. Between the three of them, his men reach shore without a single casualty. Bumi hops off his ship feeling rather pleased, all told.

“Thank you for your assistance, Lieutenant Bumi,” Colonel Kenji of the Fire Nation army says to him. “We, as always, are indebted for your help.”

“Our pleasure,” Bumi says with a shrug. “There wasn’t any real trouble anyway. Bunch of amateurs. Honestly, between the cannons you’ve got loaded on the beach and the _Phoenix,_ you guys probably could’ve handled it on their own.”

“Nonetheless, the faster we can exterminate these vermin, the better,” Kenji says. Bumi studies him for a moment. He doesn’t really know much about the guy except that he’s married to his cousin Ursa (so does that make him Bumi’s cousin-in-law? Does it work that way even if Bumi and Ursa aren’t actually related? Who knows? More importantly, does it matter?) and that he apparently really, _really_ hates pirates. Kenji’s eyes flick up and down, studying him, and Bumi stifles the urge to grin madly back in the face of the dark amber stare. Kenji nods at his side. “Have you gotten that looked at yet?”

Bumi looks down and notes that to his surprise, he’s bleeding from a sword wound to the side. Funny how that works—he hadn’t even noticed it in the heat of battle. “Oh,” he says. “That makes a lot more sense than I thought it would.”

“Our healers’ tent is over there,” Kenji directs. “It wouldn’t do for our brave defenders to fall over after the battle’s already over.”

Was that a really bad attempt at a joke? Or just a statement of fact? Or resentment hiding as sarcasm? Kenji’s tone is deadpan enough that it’s hard to tell. Bumi ponders it as he ambles to a side tent where four medics, trained in the traditional sense, patch the wounded up. No one seems really seriously injured, but all four are busy, and Bumi eases himself to sit on the sand. Now that he’s noticed the wound, it starts to throb, and he experiments with taking shallow breaths.

The evacuees are slowly returning to the cove settlement now, their makeshift homes safe and sound for another day. The adrenaline’s wearing off, but he still feels good, almost like he could do it all over again at a moment’s notice. Bumi closes his eyes, leaning back with the warm glow of a job well done.

That’s one of the best things about being in the army.

 

((()))

_Dear Bumi,_

_Oh, sweetheart, I know you can take care of yourself against the pirate attacks, but try to be careful anyway for your old mom’s sake. I worry about you, you know, so far away from us in the midst of danger, and at times I wish I could spirit you back to the South Pole and wrap you up safe and sound. Then I remember that you’re a grown man now and doing a grown man’s work, and I am so proud of you and all that you’ve accomplished. Just please stay safe, because I don’t need more gray hairs than I already have!_

_Regarding the winter, of course you should stay where you’re needed. We all understand about the call of duty, and I guess I can’t ask people to stay homeless just for the sake of having you back with us. If the situation should change, though, please let us know. Dad and Tenzin have made solemn promises that they’ll be here for the festival, and if we’re lucky, your Uncle Sokka and Aunt Suki just might commit as well. It’ll be good for us to get together again, and I would love to see how you’ve grown._

_Stay safe. Eat your vegetables and remember to comb your hair every day!_

_Love you,_

_Mom_

((()))

A resettlement camp, however temporary, is much more than just buildings—it’s also got to have food, because people have to be fed, and it preferably has running water, because people like to stay clean, and probably the most important of all, it has to have something to _do_ , because people do dumb things when they’re bored. For adults, this means Super Important Work like rebuilding or cleaning or cooking or any of a dozen chores needed to keep the camp afloat. For the kids, it means…

Well, anyway, for _Bumi_ , it means that he takes it upon himself the most important task of all: entertaining the kids. It works out. Sort of.

“Dark skies, brisk night air, campfire crackling…” he says to a group of wide-eyed children as they sit around the campfire. “You know what this perfect for?”

“Kabobs?” says one girl.

“Tart pies!” cries a boy as he wipes a snotty nose.

“Sleeping,” grumbles another girl.

“No, no, no,” Bumi says, waving his hands. “Come on! Darkness all around with only a lonely light for company…this is the perfect atmosphere for _scary stories!_ ”

This doesn’t quite get the welcoming reception he was looking for—Kabob Girl and Pie Boy in particular look rather disappointed, but the rest, at least, seem fairly neutral. One boy wearing a knotted red scarf (it’s red, why is it always red, welcome to the Fire Nation!) raises his hand, and Bumi points at him. “I know one,” he volunteers, and Bumi gives him a half-bow and gestures for him to continue. Scarf Boy straightens up proudly. “So onsaponatime there was a girl who got a doll for her birthday and she was mean to it and then the doll came to life and then it killed everybody. The end!”

“That’s not scary,” says Kabob Girl. She looks slightly older than the others—maybe about ten, eleven, Bumi’s not sure. “It’s a doll. What’s it going to kill people with?”

“Maybe it got a knife,” Sleeping Girl suggests. “It went out of bed at night and took it from the kitchen cause that’s where all the knives are.”

“But it’s got these teeny little arms and legs,” Kabob Girl argues. “Besides, dolls don’t come to life, anyway.”

“My daddy said so and so it must be true,” Scarf Boy declares petulantly, crossing his arms. “You calling my daddy a liar?”

“Well, I know a story my old dad told me,” Bumi interjects before the spat can turn into a full-on fight. Kabob Girl subsides, although she looks sulky at being cut off. “It’s about a very scary spirit who lived in a dark, scary hole in the middle of a giant tree. This spirit was one of the wisest spirits in the whole world, but if you wanted him to answer a question for you, you had to first make it out of his hole alive. But you see, it wasn’t being ripped apart that was the danger—this spirit didn’t kill people or eat flesh. What he did was far worse.”

Bumi pauses to check his audience: they’re all staring at him, and Scarf Boy’s mouth is partially open. He takes this as a good sign and continues. “This spirit had a hundred thousand legs, but he had even _more_ of something else. You see, this spirit liked to steal faces, and if you kept your face anything but still and calm, he would take your face and add it to his collection.”

“How do you take a face?” Kabob Girl says with a frown. “So like, you don’t have a nose or mouth?”

“Or eyes, or ears,” Bumi says, lowering his voice. “He’d take it all, wipe your face as flat and clean as this sand.” He smooths his hand over the sand next to him. “And then you’d never be alive again, but you wouldn’t be dead, either—you’d be in between, your soul lost to this world and the next, unable to live ever again, but also unable to die and be free of your misery.”

He takes a breath. The crackling of the flames is the only sound in the silence. “So my dad knew about this spirit, but he also knew that the spirit was the only one who could answer his question. But in order to do that, he’d have to trick the spirit from stealing his face. In order to do that, he had to keep himself perfectly calm the whole time he was talking to the spirit. But the spirit didn’t play fair, and as soon as my dad entered the tree, the spirit went…”

Bumi kicks at the flames with a foot, and as they flare up, he lunges forward and lets the light play over his grotesque expression. “ _ROARRRR!_ ”

All the kids flinch, but Pie Boy actually falls back into the sand with a yelp. Bumi points a finger at him. “And with that, he takes your face!” he cries. “But my dad still had to keep going, down, down into the darkness, with the clicking of a hundred thousand spider legs as the spirit wrapped itself around him. He could hear the spirit’s breathing, heavy in the darkness as it drew closer, and closer, and closer…”

Bumi gets up, prowling around his captive audience. The kids shiver, drawing together closer around the fire. “He was so scared,” Bumi says in a soft, growling voice. “His heart was pounding wildly in his chest, but he knew he had to stay perfectly expressionless, or else he would be doomed to wander the world, faceless and soulless. He stopped in the middle of the hole as the clicking grew closer, and he could feel the spirit’s breath on his shoulder, hot and damp and smelling of a thousand corpses. ‘Why have you come to visit me?’ the spirit asked. It was wearing the face of a woman this time, so kind and sweet, but her voice was like poisonous honey.”

“‘I seek knowledge, o great spirit,’ my father said. ‘Please, can you answer a question for me?’”

“You see, this spirit liked to be flattered, but he didn’t like to help people. Spirits don’t lie, but that doesn’t mean they’ll tell you the truth, either—they’ll tell you a half-truth, one that will send you to wander the abyss forever, lost in the mists until your own thoughts drive you insane. And this spirit knew what he wanted to do with my father—my father was very young at that time, and the spirit wanted his face very much. Young faces are still unlined with the worries of the world, and those were the ones he prized most for his collection. In fact,” he says as he slides up suddenly behind Sleeping Girl, “I think a face like _yours_ would have been his favorite.”

She gives a muffled shriek and clings onto Kabob Girl. “I don’t like this story!” she says. “Make it stop!”

“It’s just a story,” Kabob Girl says, but Bumi doesn’t miss the half-terrified look in her eyes. “Spirits don’t really steal faces.”

“Most don’t. This one did. No, it does,” Bumi corrects. “It’s still there, you know. It hides in the hollow of its tree, always waiting, always awake. Anyone who comes across it must be still at all times, or else between one breath and the next, the spirit will come in from the darkness, and all the warning you get is its breath on your shoulder before it—”

“No!” Pie Boy yells. “No!”

He keels over and hides his head under his arms, and it’d almost be comical if it weren’t for the sheer terror in his voice. Bumi makes an executive decision. “But my dad made it out okay,” he adds hastily. “Sometimes, a being can be both very wise _and_ very stupid. He tricked it, and I’m sure that all of you can trick it as well. You all seem like bright young children, yeah?”

Silence greets this pronouncement. “That’s really the way the story ended?” Kabob Girl says tentatively, sounding both skeptical and hopeful. “You’re just making it up because Kaifeng’s scared, aren’t you,” she says, pointing to Pie Boy.

Well, you’d kind of have noticed if the _Avatar_ had lost his face and hadn’t, you know, stopped a hundred year war, Bumi thinks wryly. “That’s really the way the story ended,” he reaffirms for the sake of his young audience. “Lieutenant’s honor.”

“And Fire Princess’ honor,” a voice says from behind him, and this time it’s Bumi’s turn to jump. At least it makes the kids laugh, albeit nervous laughter. He cranes his head and sees Ursa standing behind him, although from this angle the slight baby bump is more visible than anything else. “His dad told me the story too, and he really got out all safe and sound,” she says firmly.

He notes that the kids don’t kneel to her. “Princess Ursa,” Kabob Girl ventures, “how do you know Lieutenant Bumi’s dad?”

Bumi tries to convey his thoughts in his eyes: don’t tell them my dad’s the Avatar, don’t let them know because then it’ll be a huge fuss and then they’ll keep asking me questions about him and seriously, just don’t…Ursa apparently gets the message, because she smiles and says, “I know a lot of people, Satomi. And I know your parents want you back in bed now, so hurry along.” She makes a shooing gesture with her arms, and the kids all stand up. This time they do bow, sloppy half-bows before they trot off back towards the encampment in a nervous huddle.

“Thanks,” Bumi says once they’re out of earshot.

She looks at him quizzically. “For what?”

“For not…oh. Never mind,” he says, waving a hand. “You know, is it just me, or are kids these days a lot more nervous than we were? Nothing like a good old Koh the Face Stealer escapade to liven up the night.”

“Uncle Aang said that the first time he told you this story, you cried,” Ursa points out wryly. “And then you had to sleep with him that night to make sure that his face wouldn’t get stolen in the middle of the night.”

Bumi frowns at her. “He told you that? When?”

“The first time he told _me_ the story. I don’t know, when I was twelve? It was after I came back from Kyoshi Island, anyway. It was me and Lin and Tenzin on Ember Island. I don’t know what you and Kya were doing.”

“Probably being abandoned back at the South Pole,” Bumi mutters.

Ursa eases herself to sit onto the sand next to him, one hand on the small of her back. “I’m sure your dad loves you very much,” she says.

“Oh, he does,” Bumi says, leaning back and propping himself up on his elbows. “He just loves Tenzin more.”

“Tenzin’s perfectly nice.”

“He is. So’s Dad. Doesn’t mean he’s a good father.”

Ursa gives him a quizzical look. “Do you hate him?”

Bumi squirms in the sand, telling himself that it’s just so he can get comfortable. “I did for a while,” he says. “Teenage years, you know? Every adolescent boy in the South Pole is preparing for the hunt, for the rituals of manhood, but my dad was always off in the middle of nowhere, and you know, it’s so _uncool_ to have your mom do it instead. I had to ask Ukiuk’s father to paint my face for the seal hunt because Uncle Sokka wasn’t there either, not that I blame him—well, not more than I blame Dad, anyway. That was just…well.” He shrugs. “But life’s too short to hate.”

“And that’s why you joined the army,” Ursa says.

“And that, dear cousin, is why I joined the army,” he says. “Probably why I’ll never have kids, either. Why have them if you can’t devote the time to them? Might as well not bother, because why risk screwing them up?” He nods at her baby bump, trying to change the subject. “You terrified for the dawn of parenthood?”

Ursa gives him a look, and he knows full well that she knows what he’s doing. Thankfully, she takes the opening as she pats her belly gently with one hand. “Somewhat,” she says. “I’ll have Mom and Dad to help me, though, and Kenji’s a good man. We’ll make it somehow.”

“Oh ho, how’s the stoic colonel working out for you?” Bumi chortles. “Seems like a proper Fire Nation lad. All buff and ready for action.”

She flicks some sand at him, and he bats it aside with an easy grin. “He’s very nice,” she says. “He’s kind of stiff and no-nonsense until you get to know him, but he’s very sweet in private. He wasn’t my choice at first, but I grew to knew him, and, well, he grew on me.”

“And now he’s going to become Fire Lord. No. That’s you, isn’t it. What are you going to call him? I like ‘Fire Lad’ myself.”

“We settled on ‘Fire Colonel', I think,” Ursa says. “Or whatever rank he ends up with by the time he retires. Anyway, it’s not for a long while yet.”

“Well, my sincerest congratulations,” he tells her. “When’s the baby due?”

“Oh…a while. Not till spring, probably. I’ll head home after this is done, and Mom and Dad can do their share of going crazy,” she says, smiling. “I’ll be happy to rest a bit, that’s for sure.”

“No kidding. I can’t believe Mom gave birth three whole times. It looks bad enough just going through it once,” Bumi said.

“Ooh, don’t remind me,” Ursa groans. “I like to pretend birth is all sunshine and kittens and rainbows.” She’s quiet for a moment. “At the rate we’re going, we’re going to finish construction before winter.”

He squints at her. “Why are you telling me this?”

She looks at him, her eyes wide and innocent. “Mmm? I was just thinking that I’ll be able to go home with a clear conscience, knowing that things are wrapped up here. And for you…well, that’s good, isn’t it? So the _Tianshen_ doesn’t have to sail through ice,” she says. “For wherever you’re going next.”

“Oh,” Bumi says. “Of course.”

They sit by the fire for a while in a comfortable silence. Eventually, Ursa moves to stand, and he offers his arm for balance. She accepts it as she stands back up, her other hand protectively on her belly. “You staying out here long?”

“Just for a little while longer,” he says. “Nice night, I might as well enjoy it.”

She gives him a wave and heads slowly back up to the camp. Bumi makes himself comfortable next to the fire, listening to the steady waves of water on sand as he stares up at the moon.

((()))

_Dear Bumi,_

_Oh, honey, I laughed when I read your letter. It reminds me so much of your younger self. Remember when all of us would sit around the fire, and you and Kya would compete to tell the scariest stories possible? You probably had an unfair advantage considering you were two years older, but Kya certainly put up a good fight. Poor Tenzin would always hide, but eventually he’d come out and we’d have five-flavor soup and seal jerky over the fire. Your dad tried to substitute tofu for the seal jerky once, and your face turned so red with indignation I thought you’d burst. He didn’t try that again!_

_This is the first I’ve heard about Ursa being pregnant! I’ll have to yell at Zuko for not being the first to tell me. Tell her that if she wants a midwife for the birth, I might be old but I’m still the best. (And the most modest!) Give her my congratulations and love, and love to you as well._

_Miss you. Wear warm clothes and keep dry. Do you think you could come back for the spring festival?_

_Love you,_

_Mom_

((()))

It doesn’t snow in the Fire Nation, but the weather does turn quite a bit cooler as winter approaches. As the temperatures drop, the pace of building accelerates, and day by day, more of the town is built and more of the resettlement camp empties. Bumi cheerfully admits to knowing absolutely nothing about architecture, but he can install windows and pipes with the best of them. Ursa’s baby bump grows. Bumi actually has full conversations with Kenji once or twice (admittedly, about roof tiles, but you have to start _somewhere_ ), and the man does display a hidden sense of humor that actually has Bumi laughing once or twice.

“You know, I wouldn’t mind living in one of those places myself,” Koji muses as they survey the near-complete town from a nearby hill. “I mean, it’s certainly better built than what existed before. Some of these places have more rooms than my mom’s house on Long Island.”

“Aren’t you a city boy?” Payuk wonders.

“Republic City, nothing like it,” Koji says. “Why?”

“Real estate in Republic City’s so expensive now, I’m surprised that you can buy a place large enough for you to sneeze on a soldier’s salary,” Payuk says. “Me, give me a sturdy igloo anyday. Nothing like the ice around you and the northern lights above.”

“I can’t wait to get back to Omashu,” Sheng says in a wistful tone.

“Ah, are we missing the lady?” Koji says.

“Yeah,” Sheng says, not sounding embarrassed at all. “At least I have a lady. Last time I checked, you were the one sitting all alone in your tiny Republic City closet.”

“Hey, I’m heading back to Long Island for the winter,” Koji says. “That’s big enough for at least two closets. And maybe we’ll even have space for a bathroom if Mom’s feeling especially generous.” He nudges Bumi with his foot. “What about you, lieutenant? Got a lady back home?”

“Oh, you’d better believe it,” Bumi says. “I’ve got so many they’re practically coming out the nose. I can’t even handle most of them these days. One of them breathes fire, and she’s not even a firebender.”

“That’s gotta be his mom,” Payuk says, sotte voce.

“My mom is beautiful and a very wonderful woman,” Bumi says primly, and it strikes him a moment later that joking aside, it’s very true. “And I’m probably headed back to Republic City, anyway,” he adds hastily. “My uncle’s there.”

Except no, he isn’t, because Uncle Sokka’s headed back to the South Pole, Bumi recalls. Whoops. Well, he can bunk with Aunt Toph and Lin. Or he can always hitch a ride with Ursa back to the Fire Nation palace, or find Kya in Ba Sing Se, or he can…

“It’ll be good to be back home,” Sheng’s saying. “Holidays on a ship just aren’t the same as a proper Earth Kingdom festival. I bet my little sister is all grown up. Hey, do you think I’d have to beat up a boyfriend or two if he breaks her heart? Do people still do that?”

“More like your little sister will beat up your girlfriend if she breaks yours,” Koji says with a snort. “My sister’s five years younger but she could deck guys five times her age.”

“Isn’t your sister a pro-bender?” Payuk asks.

“Yup,” Koji says, sounding proud. “Dragon League champion two years in a row.”

“Oh yeah? Impressive. You know, my brother loves pro-bending, and I’ve always wanted to get him tickets to the Republic City championship…”

The conversation flows around him as the others continue to reminisce about home and plan for the future. Bumi watches the renewing town below, the people within turning houses into homes. As always, life goes on.

((()))

_Hi Mom,_

_Hopefully this letter will get to you before I do. Keep a bowl of five-flavor soup warm for me._

_Love,_

_Bumi_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requisite Ursa agewatch: Ursa is about 31 here. This part covers her pregnancy from the three-month to the six-month mark.
> 
> Edit 1/21/14: I dun goofed up on ranks and stuff. Fixed Kenji's rank.


	14. The Old Masters (Sokka)

_  
Book III: Duty_

_Chapter 4: The Old Masters (Sokka)_

((()))

“You know,” Sokka says reflectively, “I think we’re getting old.”

Zuko pauses with his hand hovering in the air over the board, pai sho tile held between two fingers. “Really,” he says. “You realized this just now.”

“Really,” Sokka affirms. He leans back, crossing his arms and feeling inordinately pleased with himself. Or is it depressed? It’s strange how those two can occur at the same time. “We are a bunch of old farts. It’s official.”

“So what made you come to this life-altering realization?” Toph asks. “Was it the aching joints? The increasing senility? I vote it’s the latter.”

“Thank you, Toph,” Sokka says sarcastically. “No, it’s _him_ ,” he says, jabbing a finger at the garden out back. He glares at the young boy running about, tripping, yelling, full of so much life and energy that Sokka kind of wants to wave a walking stick at him and yell about the good old days when they had to fight the Fire Lord for breakfast uphill both ways and they _enjoyed_ it. “Your grandson. He’s so…”

He trails off, aware that Mai and Zuko are both looking at him with faintly predatory expressions. Next to them, Ty Lee props her chin on her hands, her eyes wide and guileless as she fixes a steady gaze on him. “Yes?” Mai says mildly. “I’m sure you meant to add some superlative adjectives to that sentence.”

“So _young_ ,” Sokka says firmly. “He’s such a kid. Remember when we were kids? Those were the days.”

“You mean when we were running for our lives being chased by a psychotic prince?” Katara teases gently. “Or when we were fighting for our lives against a psychotic Fire Lord? Or when we were trying to build a new world while fending off psychotic patriots?”

“Hey, we sort of thought like the psychotic patriots for a while,” Aang protests. “I mean, it did take us a while to realize that the four nations didn’t have to be separate, but we got there eventually. You haven’t put your tile down yet, Zuko.”

“Oh,” Zuko says. “Sorry.” He places his pai sho tile down, and Aang rubs his chin as he studies the board. Zuko looks back at Sokka with a frown. “I was young once,” he says, deadpan. “It was awful. Why are you bringing this up?”

“Well, we all grew up under very stressed conditions,” Katara says.

“Some of us more stressed than others!” Ty Lee volunteers. “Although I have to say, I think Zuko’s takes the cake.”

“But we made it through, didn’t we?” Katara continues. “All of us.”

“And now we’re well-respected citizens of this new world in which all four nations live together in harmony,” Toph says, and then she wrinkles her nose. “I can’t believe I managed to say that with a straight face.”

“It’s true, though,” Katara protests. “And it’s not like we haven’t earned it.”

“But _still_ ,” Sokka persists. “We’re old. Do you know what that means? We’ve become like…like Iroh. I mean, we’re even drinking tea! While playing pai sho! How and when and why did this happen?”

“Sokka, are you having an existential crisis?” Suki asks. “You know we’ve talked about this.”

“Yes, Suki, I know,” Sokka says. “Take deep breaths. I’m calm, really, I am, I’m just…” he sighs. “Where did the time _go_? I mean, just yesterday I could’ve sworn we were flying around on Appa with Momo scurrying around…”

“We can still do that,” Aang says. He pauses. “Well. I mean, Momo’s gone, but there’s Momo’s descendents running around somewhere on Air Temple Island. And Appa can still fly. Can’t you, old buddy?” he calls, and Appa gives out a rumbling bellow from the garden. “See?”

“That’s not the point,” Sokka says. “What I mean is…is…”

He feels a hand on his shoulder. “Hey,” Katara says, her eyes soft and understanding. “I know what you mean.”

Of course she does. They’ve fought like cats over the years (though not nearly as bad as Zuko and his crazy sister; they just might have the world record for Worst Sibling Fight _ever_ ), but he can always count on Katara to be on his side when it counts. “Thanks, Katara,” he says quietly.

“It’s up to me to champion the senility theory, I guess,” Toph says, sitting up. “Snoozles, are you harboring some old regret or something? It’s not too late, you know. It’s not like you’re dead.” She pauses, a look of doubt crossing her face. “Yet. Oh, man. What if we die?”

“Wait, are you getting into this, too?” Zuko demands, squinting at her. “I thought Sokka going hysterical was enough.”

She waves a hand at him. “Hush, Sparky, I’m working on a thought.” She’s silent for a long moment, and then she shrugs, laying back down. “Nope. Thought gone. Guess I’m going senile too.”

“Everyone dies in their own time,” Aang says philosophically. “There’s nothing we can do to stop the cycle, nor should we want to. So, I mean, why worry?”

“Yeah, but I’m not talking about dying,” Sokka insists. “Or, I mean, I wasn’t, or that wasn’t the point. The point is…”

“Sokka, honey, I’m not entirely sure that you have a point,” Suki says, and he makes a face at her.

“Well, it’s true, Sokka,” Ty Lee says. “You’re just sort of rambling. Admit it.”

“The _point_ is that we’re old now,” Sokka says firmly, ostensibly to both of them but addressing all the adults in general. “And that it all happened really quickly. And I kind of want a refund for my life back.”

“So you do have old regrets,” Mai says. “You’re saying that you didn’t enjoy your life?”

“Oh, I enjoyed it,” Sokka says, waving a hand. “Still do. I mean, arguing with the other members of the Council gets a little old after a while, but it’s good exercise. Plus, I have a great view from my apartment in Republic City, and Peiwen gets me box seat tickets to the probending arena every year.”

“Ooooh,” Toph says. “Is that some bribery I smell? Tsk tsk, Councilman Sokka.”

“Hey, I pay for those tickets!” Sokka says indignantly. “It’s a service rendered for fair payment, so let your policeman hackles down, Chief Beifong. He just delivers them to my door because I’d rather not get in the midst of rabid sports fans and fight for tickets.”

“Because, of course, you are never a rabid sports fan,” Katara says cheerfully. “Never never never.”

He shoots her a quick glare. “ _Anyway,_ like I was saying, I’ve had a good life. I’m _having_ a good life. What I want is more, and it’s probably horribly greedy of me to say this, but I’m not ready for it to be over yet.”

“So you want to relive your life?” Ty Lee guesses. “Like, your favorite moments?”

“No, because that would be boring,” Sokka says patiently. “What I’d like is for _more_ life. If we could freeze a year forever. Or if we could be eternally at the prime of our lives. Or something.”

“That sounds awful,” Mai says. “Why would you want to do that?”

“Well, maybe life at the Fire Nation palace is just horrendous,” Sokka says primly, and Mai’s eyebrow goes up in a delicate arch. “But I’d like more of mine, thanks all the same.”

“So this is a completely rhetorical conversation, then,” Zuko says, leaning back from the board and pouring himself some more tea. “Because unless you’ve discovered timebending, there’s absolutely no way to get what you want.”

“As Avatar, it’s my official obligation to tell you that timebending is completely impossible, and even if it were possible, it’s _definitely_ not ethical,” Aang says, raising a finger. “We can’t change the past. We can only look to the future.”

“Wow, thank you, I really needed that explanation, your Avatarness,” Sokka says. “I don’t want to timebend, anyway.”

“Think of all the stuff you could do with it, though,” Toph says, her tone idle and musing. “You could go back and fix all those stupid mistakes you made the first time around. I could’ve fired Olan way back when the embezzeling first started—or, hey, not have hired her at all. Could’ve caught Yakone a lot sooner. Could’ve thrown that useless jerk out of the house a lot faster.”

“You could’ve gone back to Sozin’s time and finished the job that Avatar Roku couldn’t,” Zuko adds. “I mean, I wouldn’t have been born, but I guess that’s a small price to pay in the bigger picture of things.”

“True enough,” Mai says. “But then when Aang came back to our time, I would’ve killed him, so there’s that.”

“Hey! No killing my husband,” Katara says firmly.

“He killed mine first,” Mai replies.

“Or anyone’s husband,” Katara amends. “Husbands are off-limits.”

Aang pulls her in close for a hug, and Sokka makes an involuntary face. Yeah, yeah, they’re nauseatingly sweet together, but she’s still his baby sister, and just, ugh, oogies. “And wives!” Aang says brightly. “And kids.”

“So basically, everyone,” Suki says. Katara and Aang nod almost in synchrony, and it’s a little weird, but he’s gotten used to things like that. “Well, if only the world worked that way. Things would be a lot simpler without crazy people trying to take over the world.”

“We wouldn’t even need an Avatar, then,” Toph says. “Or the police. So it’s a good thing people are stupid, or else I’d be out of a job. Or hey, _I’d_ be the one taking over the world.”

Aang laughs. “We bow before your evilness, Melon Lord,” he says. “Your melon-y magnificence terrifies us!”

“You’d better be terrified. I would make a great evil overlord,” Toph says with no little satisfaction in her voice.

“You’d just yell at us, your poor pitiful subjects, all day long, wouldn’t you,” Katara says, sliding an arm around Toph. Toph grins, and Katara pulls her close. “Well, if we ever need an evil dictator, you’ve got my vote.”

“That sort of diminishes the whole point of dictatorship, then,” Zuko says. “I mean, it’s kind of in the definition that you don’t get a vote.”

“Hey, how’s that Fire Lord job of yours going?” Katara asks sweetly.

“Great, thank you. I raised some taxes yesterday, chopped off a couple heads,” Zuko says. “You know, the usual.”

Sokka rolls his eyes. “Yeah, right. You’d be a terrible evil dictator, anyway,” he tells Zuko.

Katara frowns. “Terrible as in ‘bad’ or terrible as in ‘not good at it’?”

“The second one.” As Zuko looks at him with an expression of mild surprise, Sokka elaborates, “You’d be all sad and mopey all the time because you’d worry too much about being your dad. You know it’s true.”

Mai looks at Zuko. “He has a point.”

Zuko groans, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I think that’s the most backwards compliment I’ve ever received. Uh. Thanks?”

“Um, Zuko, I’m not too sure it was supposed to be a compliment,” Aang says.

“Yeah, it was probably this really strange insult,” Ty Lee adds.

“It is whatever you wish it to be,” Sokka says, raising a hand. “But anyway, that’s not the point.”

“Snoozles, I think we’ve established that you really don’t have one,” Toph says, sounding impatient. “Is this the whole ‘we’re getting old’ thing again? Cause I hate to say this, but it’s getting old.”

“No. Well, maybe. Yes. Just—” he looks around at them, old friends and family, emphasis on the _old_. “What do you think our past selves would say if they saw us now? I mean, we’ve changed so much!”

“Define ‘past selves’,” Zuko says. “Because me at fourteen was very different from me at sixteen. Honestly, my fourteen-year-old self probably would try to challenge me to an Agni Kai or something. Something about besmirching the honor of the Fire Nation and shaming my father.”

“Your younger self was really obsessed with honor,” Katara says, but there’s no venom to her words. “Good thing you’ve got most of that worked out of your system.”

Suki laughs. “Remember that play we watched on Ember Island right before the comet?” She stands up, waving her arms melodramatically as she sinks to the floor. “ _Honoooooor!_ ”

Zuko groans. “I’m so glad you all support me,” he says as the rest of them burst into giggles. “I feel deeply appreciated here in my little corner.”

“Well, let it be known that you have many other shining qualities instead,” Mai says, hooking her arm through his.

“And honor’s not a bad thing to strive for in moderation,” Ty Lee says, her face turning serious. “It’s just that you were a little too crazy about it. On the other hand, I guess Azula and Ozai didn’t have much honor, so you were overcompensating?”

“And no matter how difficult the journey was, like Iroh said, you did find your way in the end. That’s what really matters,” Aang says, and Sokka can see a melancholy expression cross Zuko’s face at the mention of Iroh’s name. “He was very proud to see how you’ve grown, Zuko,” Aang adds quietly.

“Yeah,” Zuko murmurs. “I know he was.”

The silence stretches out for a long moment, punctuated only by the shouts of Iroh’s namesake outside, young and full of life. Zuko sighs deeply, and Mai reaches out and puts her hand over his. “You made him very happy, Zuko,” Mai says.

“I thought this conversation wasn’t supposed to be about death,” Toph says. “Because I have to say, it’s gotten real depressing all of a sudden.” She squirms out from under Katara’s arm and turns her head towards Zuko. “Gramps lived a great life, a fulfilling life, and he died peacefully knowing that the people he loved were in a good place. As deaths go, that’s pretty great. Heck, if I could get a death like that, I’d die happy.”

“Toph, you know, I really can’t imagine you ever dying,” Katara says thoughtfully. “I don’t know, I just think that you’d turn into a statue or something and return to the earth. Or spontaneously combust out of sheer awesomeness.”

“Why, thank you, Katara,” Toph says, looking pleased. “I know that no one can go out as awesomely as me, but it’s always nice to hear it reaffirmed. I don’t want to be a statue, though, that sounds seriously boring.”

“And we can’t afford to have you bored, never ever,” Katara says with a laugh. “You or Lin. You know, she really is a chip off the old block. Same stubbornness, same strong moral sense.”

“And same fantastic bending,” Toph says with a grin.

“That, too,” Katara says.

“Well, it’s not like your kids haven’t been a reflection of you and Aang,” Suki says to Katara. “Bending aside, of course, but Bumi’s as crazy as we were—well, as Sokka _is_ , I guess—”

Sokka grins. “I will definitely take that as a compliment,” he says.

“—you should, dear. And Kya’s mature and sweet, but she can be just as fiery as you, and Tenzin had to get his sense of responsibility from somewhere. So it all works out.”

“Hey, Suki? Why didn’t you and Sokka ever have kids?” Aang inquires. “I mean, not that I don’t respect your choices and everything, but that’s just something I’ve always wondered about.”

Sokka exchanges a look with Suki. It’s not really a painful subject between them, just vaguely…well, ‘sensitive’ isn’t quite the right word, but it’s close enough. They’ve talked about this a couple times before, and somewhere along the way, they’d just mutually decided that it wouldn’t fit for them. “I’ve got my hands full with Sokka,” is what Suki tells Aang. “And you know, the Kyoshi Warriors. And Sokka’s on the Council, and we just kind of…” she waves a hand.

“Anyway, I live vicariously through you, my lovely productive sister,” Sokka tells Katara, and she makes a face at him. “I like to think that Bumi is my spiritual offspring. Have you seen him with a boomerang or what?”

“ _Whack-a-pow!_ ” Katara says, imitating Sokka’s old boomerang war cry, and Sokka laughs. Yeah, he’s heard Bumi saying it once or twice, and if that’s not fatherly (or uncle-ly) pride, he doesn’t know what is. “He _is_ pretty good with it. He even managed to nail Zuko once or twice! That’s when you know you’ve reached the heights of boomerang mastery.”

“I wasn’t expecting a boomerang to come flying out of nowhere while I was in the garden,” Zuko grumbles, sounding rueful. “I’m pretty sure I scarred Ursa for life with the cursing.”

“No, she loved every minute of it,” Ty Lee says cheerfully.

Mai shakes her head. “She did. And then of course she just _had_ to find her own boomerang, and we had to deal with badly planned sneak ambushes for the next week.” She throws Suki a dry look. “And she got a lot better at sneaking after she came back from Kyoshi Island. I’m not sure if I should thank you for that or what.”

“I can’t help it if we’re the best,” Suki says loftily. “And she knew plenty about fighting before she came to me, so if she got any hits in before that, it was hardly my fault.”

“Think we’re going to have to deal with sneak attacks from Iroh soon?” Zuko wonders. “He’s already firebending everything he can get his hands on.”

“You know, I don’t think so,” Mai says. “Not that firebending isn’t magnificent, but it’s not really a stealthy element, is it. That’s more…well, if I had to pick, I’d say air, but that’s not quite close.”

“Hey, earth’s not really stealthy to begin with, but I bet I could out-sneak any of you any day,” Toph says. “Or at least I’d catch you all in the act a lot faster.”

“I think the Kyoshi Warriors could beat you all in a fair fight,” Ty Lee declares. “I’ll take you all on if Suki won’t.”

“Fair enough,” Mai says with a nod. “So stealthiness knows no element restrictions.”

“Bending isn’t the answer to everything, of course,” Aang says. “It’s the balance between all things: elements, spirits, people, actions—that really matters.”

“And there you have it, supreme wisdom from his Avatar-ness,” Sokka says with a sage nod. “We can only hope that the next one will be half as wise. Hey, the cycle’s turning to water, isn’t it? That’d be strange. Imagine someone we know giving birth to Aang’s next life.”

“I don’t really want to think about Aang’s next life,” Katara says with a frown. “Because that implies that he’s not in this life anymore.”

Aang wraps his arms around her. “Avatars never really go away,” he says. “But when I do go, I’m sure that it’ll be as peaceful and meaningful as Iroh’s was. This world is in a good state.”

“Still,” Katara grumbles. Aang silences her with a kiss, and Sokka manfully keeps himself from wrinkling his nose. Beside him, Suki nudges him with a look in her eye, and Sokka turns away from his sister and obliges Suki with a kiss of their own. He can never get enough of kissing Suki, of course; anytime is a good time for that.

“Ew,” Toph says when he finally breaks apart from Suki, his hand still carded in her hair. “I’m surrounded by old people making out. Someone make it stop!”

“Nope, we’re all too busy with the oogies,” Katara declares. “Come here, you adorable old earthbender, and we’ll give you some of our own.” She slides out of Aang’s hold and leaps for Toph, and the two of them are surprisingly spry at the faux-wrestling match that follows. Toph’s laughing, and she doesn’t really bend or otherwise fight as Katara puts her into a light submission hold and plants a kiss on the top of her head. “There,” Katara says, sounding satisfied. “How’s that for grossness?”

“Absolutely repulsive,” Toph says, not sounding disgusted in the least. “I’ll never be clean again.”

“Well, we can fix that,” Zuko says. He casts them all significant glances, a grin spreading across his face as he makes a quick motion at Aang. “There’s a pool right outside.”

They spring into simultaneous motion: Sokka grabs Toph’s left arm and Katara the other, while Zuko and Suki each grab a leg. Ty Lee lets out a laugh that’s nearly drowned out by Toph’s squeal of indignation, and then they’re all moving towards the door where Appa greets them with a massive bellow. Quickly, Aang raises his hands, summoning a wave from the pool to sweep Toph into the middle of it. She sputters through wet hair and lets out an incoherent yell, and the next thing Sokka knows, he’s being catapulted into the pool to land squarely next to her. Gasping from around him reveals that the others have been thrown in as well, and only Mai has managed to stay high and dry. “Take that!” Toph yells, pumping a fist triumphantly in the air.

“Oh, no you didn’t,” Zuko growls, and he splashes through the pool with his long wet hair plastered to his face. He’s not firebending, but he doesn’t have to: Sokka will freely admit that if you don’t know just how completely _awkward_ Zuko is, it’s easy to be absolutely pants-wettingly terrified of him at times. “Come here, you scrawny dust monkey—”

From there, it degenerates into a full-on splash war—Katara ambushes Zuko from behind, and then Ty Lee leaps to his defense while Sokka tries to grab Toph, then Suki leaps onto her and collides with him, and then Aang summons a whirlpool and even _Mai_ gets swept into it somehow, and unsurprisingly enough in a fight with two earthbenders, mud gets into absolutely _everything_. Sokka can’t remembered the last time he laughed so long and so hard, and when he finally drags himself upwards onto relatively drier land, dripping wet and muddy, the confounded looks on their audience’s faces only makes him laugh harder. “Uncle Sokka?” Ursa says, sounding thoroughly confused. Her eyes trail over the scene behind him, and no doubt it’s a gloriously grubby one. “What happened here?”

“Seriously, Mom, what are you doing?” Lin asks, her hands on her hips. “You’re covered in mud.”

“My dearest darlingest daughter,” Toph says as she treads water, not sounding ashamed in the least, “we are _earthbenders_. We embrace the mud. We love the mud!”

“I tried to stop them,” Mai says as she wades out of the pool, dripping wet. She daintily combs at the snarls in her hair, clearly trying to reassemble some dignity. It doesn’t quite work, considering that she looks like a very large overgrown wet cat. “Unfortunately, I can only do so much.” Beside her, Ty Lee performs a backflip out of the pool, splashing water everywhere. Mai gives her a pointed look.

“Oh, _no,_ ” Tenzin says. He’s shifting from foot to foot nervously, and it’s suddenly so easy to see the young, shy boy in him instead of the lofty airbending master he now is. “Father, Mother, what are you two doing? What if someone sees?”

“The beachhouse is supposed to be cleared, so if anything happens, it’s all Zuko’s fault,” Sokka volunteers as he helps Suki out. Zuko scowls, but there’s clearly no heat behind it as he steps out of the water, steam rising from him like a teapot.

Beside Sokka, Katara pulls herself up out of the pool and gracefully waterbends herself, Sokka, and Suki dry. Sokka flashes her a broad grin and a thumbs up, and she rolls her eyes at him before turning towards her son. “It’s all right, Tenzin,” she says. “We were just settling a very important matter in a very adult way.” She sounds all motherly and wise, and Sokka has to work hard to keep a straight face.

“Doesn’t look very adult to me,” Bumi says with a snort. “When’s the pool free for the next round, eh? I could use some of that adult maturity!”

“Oh, hush, Bumi,” Kya says. She steps forward and waterbends Mai and Ty Lee dry, and the two women give her nods of thanks. “Dad, Aunt Toph, you guys need help?”

“Nope, I’m good,” Aang calls, and show-off that he is, he airbends himself out of the water and lands so lightly on his feet that it’s as if he isn't almost sixty. Appa sniffs him, and Aang pats his nose reassuringly. “See? No worries. Thanks for offering, Kya.”

“Aunt Toph?”

“Still good,” Toph calls out, now floating through the water on her back and paddling lazily through the water. Sokka can see Lin cover her face with her hands.

Beside Ursa, young Iroh tugs at her robes. “Mommy,” he says, his loud whisper carrying. “Can I go into the pool too? Please please please?”

“Oh, now you’ve done it,” Ursa says with her hands on her hips as she turns to aim a glare at all the adults in general. She turns back to Iroh. “No, honey, you can’t, because it’s almost time for dinner. Mom, Dad, aunts and uncles. If and when you’re presentable and ready to join us, we’re on the deck outside.”

“We’ll be out in a moment,” Zuko says, and the contingent of young—well. Not so young now, are they?—adults leave with Iroh in tow. Zuko rakes his hands through his hair, dispersing the last few wisps of steam. “I feel like I’ve just been scolded by my own daughter,” he says ruefully. “Never thought this day would come.”

“It’s good, though?” Katara offers. “It shows that we didn’t raise a pack of young hooligans.”

“‘Hooligans’?” Sokka repeats with a raised eyebrow. “I can’t believe you actually used that word. And I’ll remind you that Bumi wanted to join us in the pool.”

“But he didn’t,” Katara says with a smile. “And that’s what counts.”

“Well, _I_ think we did good,” Toph declares, finally pulling herself out of the pool. She stomps the ground once, and the mud sluices off her with startling obedience. She shakes a couple droplets of water out of her hair. “And I’m starving. Why are we still standing here?”

Dry and with the warmth of the setting sun at their backs, they head towards the deck. Sokka looks down as Suki comes up close to him, wrapping an arm around his waist and resting her chin on his shoulder. “So how’s the existential crisis doing?” she asks him softly. “Are you still panicking about life?”

He snakes an arm around her to rest on her hip, feeling the solid weight of her against him. “We did do good, right?” he asks quietly. “All of us, we _meant_ something. We built a good world for the future.”

She kisses him, light and sweet and no less precious for the passing of the years. “We did a good job,” she affirms. “And between all of us, the kids turned out well. When we’re ready to pass the world on, they’ll be ready to take it.”

The sounds of chattering voices and the smells of good food greet them as they enter the deck. Sokka eases into a chair, old but young all at once as he relaxes into the moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aang is 59 here, which puts Ursa at 39 and Iroh at seven. And look, Tenzin finally gets a speaking line!
> 
> The alternative title for this was "Old People Camp."


	15. In Mourning (Tenzin)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ursa is 46, Tenzin is 41. This was very difficult to write, and I hope I did the characters and themes justice.

_Book III: Duty_

_Chapter 5: In Mourning (Tenzin)_

((()))

All in all, he thinks that he does a remarkably good job of holding himself together. Uncle—no, _Fire Lord_ Zuko; the situation calls for the title—lights the pyre with a massive inferno that Tenzin doesn’t flinch from though everyone else takes a step back. When the ashes have cooled enough, Tenzin scatters them to the winds with all the formality of ceremony. Mother grieves and Tenzin moves to comfort her. Pema’s worried about him, and he reassures her that he’s fine, perfectly fine. He greets the extended family, the guests, the honorary dignities, making sure that every custom is observed and all expectations met. Every action is perfect: he’s the perfect son and legacy.

And then he runs from it all, because there is a limit to how long he can hold himself together. But there’s nowhere to run to, because Air Temple Island is quite literally the place that his father built from the ground up, and the memories are everywhere—that’s where they played airball together, that’s where Father taught him to ride a sky bison, that’s where he received his tattoos, that’s where they ran and talked and laughed and learned together. There’s not a single corner of Air Temple Island that isn’t drenched in memory, and Tenzin finds himself shaking with the need to get out, to run, to hide, to go away someplace where he’ll wake up and it’s all been a terrible nightmare. But he can’t, because he’s wearing Air Nomad robes and Air Nomad tattoos, and on this day, the Avatar is dead and everyone will want to talk to him about it and ask him about his feelings and be so worried and anxious, and he just _can’t do it anymore_ , someone make it stop, just _stop—_

Somehow, he finds himself back in his room, his clothes and possessions strewn around him in a haphazard mess. Doesn’t he have anything that isn’t Air Nomad? he wonders listlessly as he sends a puff of air skittering over his sparse wardrobe. Something plain. Something invisible in the black and brown of Republic City. Something…normal.

The knock on the sliding doors makes him freeze, and he considers for a brief moment pretending that he’s not in. His traitorous sense of responsibility kicks in, though, and he finds himself calling out anyway. “Yes?”

The door slides open, and the light from the hallway reveals Ursa standing in the doorway. She’s changed out of the ceremonial white mourning robes to something plain and black, something that Tenzin finds himself inexplicably envious of. “Hey,” she says. “We’re gathering in the South Room, and we thought you…” her voice trails off as her eyes take in the sight of his room, and Tenzin wants to dive out the window and never come back. He raises his chin and meets her eyes defiantly, daring her to comment.

Thankfully, she doesn’t. “Would you like to join us for tea, Tenzin?” she asks instead. “Kya and Bumi are there, and so’s me and Lin. If Kya can find Pema, she’ll join us too. It’ll be something small and private. We’ve all had enough of ceremony for one day, I think.”

The thought of having to deal with his siblings with the tension between Pema and Lin on top of it is an overwhelming one. He’s had too much grief and worry for one day, and while Lin probably won’t overtly hate him today out of respect for his father, any sort of negativity is too much to bear at this moment. “No,” he manages. “Thank you, though.”

She’s silent for a moment, and he looks back down, hoping that she’ll somehow vanish while he’s not looking. “I know this great tea shop,” she says at last. “It’s quiet and out of the way. Uncle Iroh took me there the last time when we were in Republic City together.”

There’s an invitation lurking in there. Tenzin takes a shuddering breath and feels the trembling work its way through him, bone-deep. “I just need some time alone,” he manages. “Please.”

Lin would insult him and drag him out anyway. Bumi would call him a classic airbender, all evasion and running away. Kya would put her arms around him and hug him and want to talk about their feelings. Pema would be worried, so worried, and she would be yearning and gentle and so _caring_ that he’ll shatter apart into pieces that can never be picked back up.

Ursa nods. “I’ll tell the others I couldn’t find you,” she says. He looks up at her, surprised. “It’s a standing invitation, though. Tea, I mean,” she clarifies.

“Oh,” he says, feeling extraordinarily slow. “Right. Okay.”

“It’s understandable,” she says softly. “Don’t worry about it.”

Don’t worry. Right. Hah.

He gives her a jerky nod, and she leaves, sliding the door noiselessly shut behind her. He curls in on himself in the darkness, staring blankly into nothing as he tries to remember how to breathe.

((()))

Mother’s been crying. He can see her red-rimmed eyes the next day. Uncle Sokka’s not much better; he’s trying to hide it but the signs are clear. Kya and Bumi are less obvious, but Bumi’s jokes are forced and Kya’s more aggressive than usual. Tenzin watches all of this from his seat at the breakfast table, feeling loose and detached from the scene before him. He knows that Pema’s watching him, her eyes soft and sad, but he can’t bring himself to face her.

He doesn’t cry. He can’t. He feels hollow and empty inside, and there’s nothing he has left to give.

The food is bland and tasteless in his mouth, and Tenzin gives up eating after a few bites. Breakfast seems to drag out, a horrible prolonged affair as the rest of the extended family converges on the table, and only some lingering sense of propriety keeps Tenzin from overturning the table and fleeing the scene. He does extract himself at the soonest possible opportunity that politeness allows, hoping that no one notices as he leaves the room.

Footsteps behind him tell him that he hasn’t achieved his goal. With a sinking heart, he turns around to see Pema, a painful uncertainty in her eyes as she approaches him. “Tenzin?” she says.

He takes a deep breath. “I’m fine, Pema.”

"No, you’re not,” she says fiercely. “You’re in no state to be fine. Your father’s gone, Tenzin.”

“I’m well aware,” he says. His voice sounds distant to his own ears. “Was there anything else?”

“You don’t have to do this alone,” she says. “I love you. I’ll always be here for you. You know that, right?”

He nods mechanically. “I know.”

Pema’s face falls, and Tenzin hates himself a little for what he’s doing, but at the same time he can’t stop it. “Please just—” she starts, and then she breaks off abruptly. A tear slides down her cheek. “Tenzin, _talk to me_. Please.”

He moves forward, each step slow as if he’s dragging his foot through water. He knows how to do this—comfort people, mentor people, help people. He puts his arms around Pema and she leans into him, and he can feel her tears soaking through his robes. “It’s okay,” he says, the words dragged out of him by rote. “You’ll be okay.”

She leans back, her eyes widening. “What about you? You’re not anywhere close to okay, Tenzin! You were the closest to Aang out of all us besides your mother. There shouldn’t be any room for my grief, but you’re not saying anything at all and it’s starting to worry me.”

He swallows. “I know. I’m sorry.” Awkwardly, he unwraps his arms from around her. He doesn’t quite know what to do with them—should they hang by his sides? Should he fold them behind his back? Suddenly it seems like a very important question.

She shakes her head. There’s too much desperation in her eyes, too much unrestrained emotion that Tenzin can’t even begin to process right now. He takes a step away from her. “I’ve…I’ve got to go,” he says slowly. “For things. Work.” Yeah. He’s the representative of Air Temple Island. He’s the last airbender. If nothing else, there’s always responsibility.

“Tenzin—”

“I’ll see you later,” he says.

He doesn’t quite run out of there, but it’s close.

((()))

Everywhere he goes, there’s _people_.

The Air Nomad tattoos are something to be proud of. They were painful to ink and painful to earn, but they shine as badges of hard-won mastery. They also make it distinctly obvious who he is. Air Temple Island is much more crowded than usual, and it seems that every single person wants to talk to him. He doesn’t have any scheduled meetings to attend, but people crowd up to him nonetheless like moth-wasps to fire, and each conversation is a struggle to work through.

When he retreats to the privacy of his room, even that is invaded, this time by Mother. He tries to be polite, he really does, but her grief is the most overwhelming of all. He toys with the notion of running away, this time for real—past Air Temple Island, past Republic City, past the United Republic, until he can find some nice remote island where no one will ever talk to or cry on or expect anything of him ever again.

He finds himself aimlessly wandering the acres of woodland behind the temple. It’s nice and quiet out here, and Tenzin would savor the silence if he was capable of feeling anything at the moment. Out here, the fauna don’t care who he is. He stays out there listening to the wind through the trees until long after the sun’s gone down, and it’s only then that he makes it back to the temple on stiff legs. There, Kya and Bumi greet him with worry and anger, asking where he’s been, if he’s okay, they’ve been trying to find him all day and Mother’s been worried sick, doesn’t he know that, how could he do this to them at this time?

Any peace he found in the woodland quickly falls apart, and Tenzin runs once more, unable to summon enough anger to even shout back. One foot after another, light and fleeting. Don’t stop, because air never stops—evade, avoid, dance like the wind, Tenzin, steady spiral movements, that’s it, you’re doing very well, I am so _proud_ of you—

He shudders to a halt, panting hard.

It’s a long moment before he can pull himself together enough to take in his surroundings. He’s in the women’s guest section of the temple. Most of the rooms are dark, which makes sense; there’s probably a get-together outside that he’s missing. There’s one room that’s lighted, and Tenzin recognizes it vaguely as the room set aside for Ursa. Almost as if in a dream, he moves forward, hand rising to slide open her door.

Ursa looks up at him as he shifts from foot to foot in the doorway. He feels absurdly nervous. It feels strange to be feeling anything at all.

“Tenzin,” she greets him. The word is encapsulated within itself, asking and giving nothing. No expectations. She barely knows him, and he could say the same of her. She’s in no position to ask anything of him, and that’s something he could desperately use right now.

“I’ll take that tea now, if it’s all right,” he finds himself saying. “If your schedule’s free, I mean,” he adds awkwardly.

“Of course it is,” she says, standing up. “Come on. Let’s go.”

((()))

He’s wearing an outfit that’s too big for him, but it’s black and nondescript. The cap and gloves, drawn tight over his skin, cover the tattoos on his head and hands respectively. “They’re Kenji’s,” Ursa had explained briefly as she thrust them at him. “They’ll hide you nicely.”

Hiding sounds _fantastic_ right now.

It feels almost eerie, walking through Republic City without being recognized. No one gives him a second glance, no one gives him nods as he passes by, and he’s completely fine with that. They’re just two anonymous citizens on their anonymous business, and there’s a power there that he’s never known before. Ursa wends her way through Republic City confidently, and Tenzin trails in her wake, feeling like some sort of voyeuristic observer into the lives of ordinary people: people who aren’t the last airbender’s only airbender.

The teashop is tucked into a little out-of-the-way corner, the furniture simple and rustic. Tenzin sits down awkwardly on one of the benches, and Ursa slides onto the bench across from him. “I highly recommend their honey lemon tea,” she says. “It’s a bit sweeter than what you’re used to, perhaps, but it’ll grow on you quickly.”

Tenzin nods mutely. When the waiter comes, Ursa orders for both of them. He stares down at his hands, clenching and unclenching his fingers. A single sweeping movement of his hand can cause enough of a gust to blow this table over. How does that work? he wonders inanely. How does any of this work?

“Uncle Iroh always said that tea is a simple art that is elevated by the respect and significance of events that we attach to it,” Ursa says. Tenzin blinks at the seeming non sequitur and looks up, trying to sort out the past couple minutes. “I didn’t understand what he meant when I was young, but it’s starting to make a lot more sense to me now that I’m older.”

“What…” Tenzin says weakly.

“You asked me how this works.” She gestures to the tray in front of her, and he realizes that the tea’s already here, steam rising faintly from the teapot’s spout. He numbly accepts a cup from her, holding the warmth in his hands. “I think he was just so good at tea-brewing that it was second nature to him, though. I’ve done my share of making tea, and it’s not really as simple an art as you would think.”

“Uncle Iroh,” Tenzin repeats. Uncle Iroh, old and reassuring. Tenzin’s met him a couple times, and the thing that stands out most is the instant sense of _comfort_ you felt from being around him. “He taught me how to play pai sho.”

“Yeah, he tried to teach me, too,” Ursa says with a small smile. “It didn’t stick as well as the tea-brewing lessons, though. I haven’t played in years. I still have the lotus tile he gave me, though.”

“He never gave me a tile,” Tenzin murmurs.

“Dad has his whole set somewhere minus that lotus tile. I’m sure he wouldn’t care if I gave you one of the other tiles. It’s not like we don’t have at least ten other pai sho sets around the palace, anyway.”

“Really?”

“Well, maybe not ten. But quite a few. Mom and Dad play together sometimes.”

“I’ve seen your dad playing”— _with my dad_ , he doesn’t say—“before, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen your mother play,” Tenzin says. “I didn’t know she did that.”

“Mom’s become a lot more sedate in her grand old age,” Ursa says. “She could probably still pound me into the dust, though, so I try not to say things like that to her face. Do you want some food? They have some vegetable buns that are pretty good.”

He hasn’t eaten since a few bites at breakfast, but he’s not hungry. “No. Thank you.”

“Okay,” she says peaceably, and then she falls silent.

Tenzin returns to staring at his hands. There’s a cup of tea in them now, and he wonders how the cup got there. Tea is good. It’s calming and very healthy. Out of lack of anything better to do, he lifts the cup and sips at it. It’s sweeter than he would’ve expected. Huh.

There’s not a lot of a crowd this late at night, but there’s some sort of music playing from a record in the corner. Tenzin closes his eyes and listens to it, idly picking out the instruments. Tsungi horn, pipa, flute, pipes. A woman is singing about how her lover has left for the ice, and when he comes back, and ice and fire will meet once more as they dance together from the sun to the moon. It’s sappy and a bit overdone, really.

“It’s sweet,” Ursa says, and he opens his eyes to look at her, startled yet again. “Just think that hardly a couple decades ago, a proper Water Tribe man would never think of marrying a Fire Nation woman. It shows how times have changed.”

“Did I say something out loud again?” Tenzin asks.

“You did. I take it you’re not a fan of Lin Mei Mei?”

Is that who the singer is? “I guess not. I don’t listen to popular music a lot.”

“I don’t either, but some songs you pick up out of sheer exposure. She’s originally from the Fire Nation, you know. Quite a sensation there. Republic City is where she really became famous, though. Apparently it’s dashingly romantic to sing about cross-cultural love affairs, because she has another song where she falls in love with an earthbender but he shatters her heart like dust under his feet.”

“That doesn’t sound very…nice,” Tenzin says after a moment.

“It really isn’t. The tune is ridiculously catchy, though.”

“I thought you didn’t listen to popular music,” he says slowly.

Ursa shrugs. “Some things you can’t help but pick up. And if it’s good enough for everyone else in the Fire Nation, I guess it’s good enough for me.”

“Right,” Tenzin says. “You should like what your people like, I guess. Because you’re Fire Lord. Fire Princess?”

“Fire Princess,” Ursa says with a smile. “Just that for now. Hopefully for a long time.”

Tenzin bites his lip. “I don’t have a long time to wait,” he says, the words dead and slow.

She doesn’t say anything in response. He turns away, not wanting to see her expression. “I’m the last airbender.”

“I know,” Ursa says softly.

He waits, but she doesn’t say anything else. When he looks up, her eyes are fixed on him, steady and calm. He grabs that anchor and clings onto it, a oasis of tranquility in a churning sea of emotion. “I can’t do it,” he confesses, the words a dishonorable admission. A flush of shame creeps up onto him, infecting every fiber of his being. His father is dead, and Tenzin can’t even shed a single tear for him. Instead, he’s worried about the work, the responsibility, like a child who discovers he has extra chores to do and just can’t handle it. And he _can’t_ handle it; he wants to run away and hide and never come back. What sort of person does that?

“I’ve thought about doing the same once or twice,” Ursa says quietly, folding her hands together in front of her. It takes him an excruciating moment before he realizes that he spoke his thoughts out loud, _again_. “It happened when I had to leave the Kyoshi Warriors, and there have been other moments as well. I went from living in Republic City to the Outer Islands to Capital Island, every single step bringing more responsibility and less freedom. There was a time when Iroh was about five when I wanted to run out the door screaming and not come back.”

Tenzin stares at her. “But you didn’t?” he says tentatively, and then he feels enormously stupid. Of course she didn’t. She wouldn’t be here if she did, would she.

“I did,” she says, surprising him. “Well, I tried, anyway, although without the screaming bit. I took some money and left the palace. I had it all very well planned out, actually. I’d go to a hotel, wait until dark, and then bribe a ship to take me to Wicker Island, and from there I’d go to sleep and hopefully not wake up.” She pauses. “On second thought, I was probably extremely sleep-deprived, depressed, and overstressed at the time. Not the best mode with which to be making plans.”

“But you didn’t,” Tenzin repeats.

“But I didn’t,” she says. “Mom found me at the hotel. I shouted at her. Possibly wrecked up the furniture a bit. She waited out the storm and then sat me down on the bed like I was eight all over again, and she told me that I wasn’t alone. That there were people waiting for me—not _on_ me, there’s a distinct difference. I didn’t have to be strong all the time, because there were people who would hold the world together for me while I fell apart. Not every responsibility has to be taken alone. In fact, a lot of them shouldn’t be taken alone.”

Tenzin rubs a hand over his face. “I _am_ alone,” he says dully. “I’m the last airbender, Ursa. The last link to a destroyed culture. The only way to do this is alone.”

“You’re the last airbender, not the last Air Nomad,” she says calmly. “Bending isn’t everything, you know. There are Air Acolytes who have been living and breathing the Air Nomad life since long before you were born, and a fair number even know the bending moves even if they can’t bend themselves. The culture lives on in them and their followers, and it’s their duty as well to spread and uphold the old ways. Uncle Aang’s legacy lives on in every citizen in Republic City, if not the whole world. It’s not only your burden to bear.”

He takes a deep breath, focusing on the motion of the air in his chest. Setting the cup of tea carefully back onto the table, he watches as his breath stirs the surface of the tea. “They all want to talk to me,” he says at last. “They all want to know what I’m going to do. How I’m feeling. How I’m coping. And I can’t tell them, because—” _the truth is that I don’t feel anything._

“Because?” Ursa prompts after a moment.

Tenzin’s irrationally relieved that the last statement, at least, he didn’t say out loud. He shakes his head, not wanting to voice it. He’s a failure in so many ways, but this shame, at least, he can hide. “Nothing. I just can’t.”

She doesn’t say anything for a very long moment. Finally, she says, “There’s no right or wrong way to mourn, you know.”

“Everyone’s crying,” he says bleakly. “They’re all either sad or angry. Pema’s worried about me, I know she is, but I can’t…I just can’t.”

“Then don’t,” she says. “Don’t force the grief. It _will_ come, I’ll tell you that, but you don’t need to feel weak or ashamed because you don’t feel it now. Pema loves you. Your family loves you. They won’t hate you for needing time to mourn.”

“It feels like cheating,” he says. “I’m not mourning, I’m just…” he waves a hand vaguely in the air. “Drifting.”

“There’s no way to ‘cheat’ when it comes to mourning,” she says. “Everyone approaches it differently, and that’s okay. And when you finally fall, there’s your family there to catch you. Like I said, Tenzin, _you’re not alone._ Responsibility can be shared, and so can grief. There’s no shame in admitting that you need help, even if it’s not the kind they’re expecting to give. They can’t do anything if they don’t know, though. It’s up to you to reach out.”

He fiddles with his cup, watching ripples spread across the surface. “What if they don’t understand?” he asks.

Ursa reaches across the table, her hand wrapping around his fingers and stilling them. “They might not understand,” she says, “but they’ll be there for you. That’s what family does.”

“You’re a little overly optimistic,” he says. He turns his palm upward, letting Ursa’s fingers lie loose in his. “I can’t see a way out from here.”

“There will be,” she says, so firmly that he wants to believe her. She gives him a crooked half-smile. “And I’ve had to be optimistic. I might not be Fire Lord yet, but I’ve done my share of the hard side of ruling.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” he mutters. “How do you deal with it?”

“One step at a time,” she says. “The decisions are yours, I won’t lie to you about that, and so’s the responsibility that comes with the consequences. But the planning before and after and the execution of what you decide to do—that you can share. The process is far more valuable than you’d expect, and you don’t feel nearly as much alone.”

“I don’t know if I can do it,” he whispers.

“You’re stronger than you know,” she says, quiet conviction in her words. “We all are. We just don’t know it until we’ve been dragged down to our lowest points.”

He wants to believe her, he really does.

((()))

They manage to catch the last run of the late-night ferry to Air Temple Island. The wind feels good on his face, and the boatman gives no sign of recognition as Tenzin pays him. He treasures the anonymity while he still can.

“How do you know so much about this?” he asks as they make their way back up to the temple. It’s a peaceful walk, as most people are presumably asleep. Most of the rooms in the temple are dark, and the light of the moon is the one that gilds her face as she turns towards him.

“About what?” she asks.

He shrugs. “Grief. Mourning. Do you feel the same way over Father being—not here? Detached?”

“Your father was a great man,” she says. “I respected him as Avatar, and he was always very kind to me as an uncle. I think I’m more sad because Mom and Dad, especially Dad, are sad, though. So to answer your question, no. I wasn’t nearly as close to him as you were.”

“Then how…?”

She doesn’t answer for a long moment. “I miscarried my second child about four months in,” she says finally. “It was a long time before I got better.”

He stops dead in his tracks. “I’m sorry,” he says, feeling awkward. “I didn’t know.”

“We hardly noised it about. Politics-wise, it wasn’t a big deal because Iroh was already born, and he was healthy and whole and a firebender to boot. For me, though…I felt my baby kick.” She pauses. “They told me it was a girl.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeats helplessly.

“Don’t be sorry, it’s not your fault,” Ursa says as she resumes walking. “I kept telling myself that I was being stupid and irrational, that I was mourning something that I’d never even seen. My people needed me, Iroh needed me, and there I was laying in bed and just staring blankly and not feeling anything at all. And then I started hating myself, which I can tell you right now really isn’t that much better. One day the hate just sort of blew up, I guess, and that’s when I ran away. It was still a struggle after I came back, but…it was an upward struggle. That’s better than what it was, at least.”

They reach the corridor where the men and women’s dormitories split. “Does it get better?” he asks as she turns to leave. “When will I be able to feel again?”

“When will it get better? I don’t know,” she says. “Will it get better? Yes. If you let other people help you, the process is much easier.”

He takes a long moment to processes her words. “Okay,” he says finally. He lets out a breath that he hasn’t known he’s been holding as he lets himself trust in her words. “All right, then.”

He can see her nod in the darkness. “Good night, Tenzin,” she says.

“Good night, Ursa,” he says.

((()))

He starts out for his own room before hesitating and changing route. Pema’s asleep when he slides open the door to her room, but she stirs awake as he sits down next to her. “Tenzin?” she murmurs. “Where have you been? Are you okay?”

He takes a deep breath. “No,” he says, the word coming out stronger than he thought it would. “I’m not okay. I don’t—I don’t feel it, Pema, I’m numb and I just—I just can’t. Not at this moment. I mean, not now. But I _will_ —and I need to—I need you—”

He’s making a horrible mess of this. Ursa’s advice tumbles through his head, but the words are coming out all wrong and he’s messing this up and Pema will never understand and—

—and she wraps her arms around him, holding him tight. He breathes deeply, raggedly into her hair. The tears don’t fall; it’s not that easy. It won’t be easy.

“I love you,” Pema whispers. “I’m here for you.”

And maybe for now, that’s enough.


	16. Passing the Torch (Ursa)

_Epilogue_

_Passing the Torch (Ursa)_

((()))

Traditionally, Fire Lords are crowned in front of their predecessor’s pyre to symbolize the continuation of the eternal flame. She’s never been more thankful that Dad has basically spent the whole of his reign rewriting tradition, but at the same time, the finality of the decision is terrifying. She’s fifty-one years old, and she’s been the Fire Princess her entire life. That’s not going to be true for much longer.

“Ursa.”

She turns around. Mom’s standing in the doorway, carrying a set of heavy, ornate robes in her arms. Ursa has attended more ceremonies than she can easily count, but this is the big one, the one that has defined her life and will continue to do so until the day she dies. She lets out a slow breath as Mom carefully unfolds the robes and lays them out on the bed. Red and black and gold, good strong traditional colors. She runs a finger lightly along the edge of the gold brocade, feeling the weight of ancestors past in the fabric.

“Nervous?” Mom says quietly.

She lets out a shaky laugh. “Yeah.”

“Speech ready?”

Ursa nods. “I’ve been practicing for days.”

“It’s just a speech like any other,” Mom says. “Putting up with all the bowing and scraping later is the hard part. When your father was crowned, I remember thinking that the festivities would never end.”

“Well, you guys did just end a hundred-year war,” Ursa points out. “I’m sure that was part of the reason for the celebrations.”

“True,” Mom says. “Thankfully we’re past all that. The world’s in a peaceful state now.”

Ursa meets her gaze. Fire Lady Mai looks back at her, wise and regal with the authority of years. She reaches up a hand to brush Ursa’s hair away from her cheek, and she’s Mom again—the steady bedrock to Dad’s fire; not the most emotional of people, but the one that Ursa goes to first in times of trouble. “Half of it is ceremony, half of it is politics, and the third half is smiling a lot,” Mom says. “You’ve been doing the work of Fire Lord for years, Ursa, taking over more and more of the administration of the Fire Nation. This is just the official seal of approval.”

“It’s a very _important_ seal of approval,” Ursa whispers.

“It’s one that you were born to, and it’s one that you’ve earned more than a dozen times over. This is who you’re meant to be.”

Mom’s hands are steady as she helps Ursa dress. Ceremonial robes are complicated, and this is perhaps the most intricate of them all, but her mother’s movements are confident and swift. Layer by layer, Ursa goes from a simple woman in a plain white undergown to Fire Princess, awash in finery—and soon, Fire Lord. As Mom works on her hair, she stares at herself in the mirror, unable to believe that the woman in the reflection is her.

“You will do fine,” Mom says as she smooths down a few stray wisps of Ursa’s hair. The topknot is tied, ready and awaiting the crown. “You are more ready than we ever were.”

Ursa closes her eyes. There’s a core of solid steel in Mom’s words, and Ursa lets herself draw on the strength in them. She opens her eyes and meets Mom’s gaze with a resolute nod. On impulse, she reaches forward, drawing Mom into a hug. Her mother returns it, tight and fierce.

((()))

Iroh is sitting in a chair, but he jumps up when he sees her. He’s dressed in Fire Nation robes as well, a departure from his United Republic Army uniform. He’s almost twenty years old, stronger and braver than she could have ever imagined, and it’s still a marvel that he turned out as well as he did. “Fire Princess Ursa,” he says with a bow, and she shakes her head. He smiles ruefully as he straightens. “Hi, Mom.”

“Hey, kid,” she says. She tweaks his collar, and while he squirms a little, he doesn’t move away. “You didn’t have to wait on that uncomfortable chair, you know,” she says. “How long have you been waiting out here?”

“Not long,” he says. “You look nice.”

“It’s a bit overdone,” she says. “If I trip over the robes on the way to the dais, I expect you to cause a diversion so everyone forgets my faux pas. Maybe start a new war or something. You have my permission to blow up the fountain; I’m sure no one will miss it.”

“I’m just a private. I don’t think the army would listen to me,” Iroh says. “You could ask Uncle Bumi to pull some strings, though.”

“Hmm,” Ursa says, pretending to ponder the idea. “Tempting. I guess it wouldn’t be proper to start off my reign with such a blatant show of corruption, though. Where’s your father?”

“He went to find Granddad. I think he’s more nervous than you are, and he’s not even the one being crowned.”

“Bravest man you’ll ever meet in a fight, stiff as a board when it comes to politics,” Ursa sighs. “I’ll have to think of some way to unloosen him later tonight.”

Iroh groans. “Mom!”

“Hey, I’m just saying!” Ursa says. “Honey, have I ever told you how little Irohs are made? When a man and a woman—”

“ _Moooom_ ,” Iroh says, and he looks like a little boy again, his tongue sticking out as he grimaces. “No one wants to think about that kind of stuff!”

“All right, I’ll spare you the details,” Ursa laughs. She looks up at him, examining him critically. “Have you gotten taller?”

“I think you say that every time I come back from anything longer than a week away,” Iroh says. “Still the same head-and-a-half taller than you are.”

“It’s hardly a head-and-a-half. Just the half.” She reaches up to smooth down his hair, and he obligingly dips his head for her. “Ready for this?”

“You’ve got most of the hard work,” Iroh says as he straightens up. “I just have to stand and look handsome.”

“An easy task for you, I’m sure,” Ursa says. “Just you wait, this will be you someday.”

He wrinkles his nose. “At least let me make general first,” he says. “I want some practice in bossing people around before they throw the fancy clothes on me.”

“Honey, I have seen the general’s uniform, and trust me, it’s got its own measure of fanciness,” she says. “It’s all good training, I suppose.”

In the distance, a gong sounds. “That’s your cue,” Iroh says, looking at her. He offers her his arm, and she raises an eyebrow at him. “May I walk you to the waiting room, Mom?”

“You know, I think whoever raised you did a great job,” Ursa says as she accepts it. “So gallant and polite. I wonder what spectacular parenting made you this way. It must have been so very kind and gentle.”

“No, it was the fear of getting beaten to death with a fan that did it,” Iroh says. “I was raised under a cruel taskmaster, and I still cower in fear every moment of every day.”

“Shame,” Ursa says with a smile. “I’m sure the army suits you perfectly, then. Harsh discipline and punishing schedules being exactly what you’re used to.”

“And the yelling,” Iroh says. “Definitely the yelling. My good old sergeant reminds me a lot of someone I know. Who could it be. My mother, maybe?”

“Hey, whenever I lectured you, I did it with great dignity!” Ursa says, tossing her head. “Dignity’s my second name, actually. The more you know. Princess Ursa Dignity has a nice ring to it.”

“Of course it is,” Iroh says, and Ursa punches him lightly on the shoulder. “What? I was agreeing with you!”

“Oh yes, humor your old mother, that senile old bat,” Ursa says. “I know that tone, young man. Ready to run back to the army yet?”

They stop in front of the door, and she slides her arm out of his and turns to face him. He smiles down at her, and she feels her heart liable to burst with a mother’s pride. “Never,” he says. “Nothing like being home.”

She leans up on tiptoes and plants a kiss on his cheek. “Love you, honey.”

“Love you too, Mom,” he says. “Go and stun them all with your new crown.”

“That’s the plan,” she says as she opens the door. “I’ll see you on the dais.”

She sees him wave at her as she closes the door behind her with a smile.

((()))

Kenji’s the only one in the waiting room when she enters. They stare at each other for a moment as she enters, and then he takes a stride forward and hugs her. She relaxes into his embrace, moderately surprised. Kenji’s not the most demonstrative of people; big emotional gestures are rare for him. “You okay?” she says.

“Fine,” he murmurs into her hair. He takes a deep breath and leans back. “I think your dad hates me.”

“We’re past all that, remember?” she chides gently. “You are Fire Nation-approved through and through, Dad-approved, and most importantly, you are me-approved. Why the sudden anxiety?”

“I came into the room, and he muttered something about looking for you and then ran off,” Kenji says. His hands are still on her waist, big and very warm. “I walked around a little bit, but I figured that you would come eventually so I might as well wait for you here.”

“Clever man,” she says. “I approve. Iroh walked me here. He’s heading to the plaza now, I think.”

“I should be there,” he says, but he doesn’t move. She rubs her cheek against his shoulder, and she can feel him sigh against her neck. “Is this going to change anything?”

She frowns. “What do you mean?”

He leans back. “You being…Fire Lord,” he says, saying the words like he’s never heard them before. “It’s a big change.”

“I’ve been doing the work for years now,” Ursa says softly, recalling Mom’s words. “It’ll be some more responsibility, I think, but…nothing drastic. Why?”

He shifts from one foot to another, a rare show of uneasiness, and she understands in a flash of insight. The title of Fire Lord is _technically_ gender-neutral, but there hasn’t been a woman as Fire Lord for at least seven generations, maybe more. Kenji’s never tried to assert his masculinity over her in some stupid fashion, but she can see how even the most confident man would be a tad uneasy. “You’re my husband,” she says firmly. “Who I am and who we are isn’t going to change.”

He doesn’t relax, not exactly, but he does loosen just the slightest bit. “Then I won’t change, either,” he says, his voice firm.

“That’s the spirit,” she says.

He looks down at her, his amber eyes warm. “You look very nice,” he says finally. “A bit overdressed, maybe?”

“That’s what I said,” she says with a grin. She leans in close. “We’ll talk about that tonight.”

“Mm,” he says, and she can feel the vibrations of his chest. “I’m sure it will be a very intense discussion.”

“I look forward to it,” she says, hiding her smile against his robes.

One hand slides up from her waist to rub at her neck, careful not to disturb her hair. She shivers at his touch. “Don’t be scared,” he says. Anyone else would hear it as an order, but she knows him well enough to catch the nuances in his voice.

“I’m not scared,” she says. “Just—moderately terrified. There’s a difference.”

“You can handle it.”

“Of course I can.”

“You’re going to be great,” he says. “The Fire Nation will be steady under your rule.”

The steady conviction in his voice thrills and scares her all at once. “I hope so,” she says softly. “I really, truly hope so. Uncle Aang’s gone and the new Avatar is still a child. The balance might be in danger again…”

“Your father will watch over the balance while the new Avatar grows up,” he says, and he sounds so certain. “He’ll keep the world in balance, and you’ll keep the Fire Nation strong.”

She reaches down and clasps his hand from around her waist. “ _We_ will,” she says. “I don’t plan on doing this alone, you know. I’m going to need my Fire General with me. Not to start any wars,” she adds hastily. “Just. You know. To keep me sane.”

“I’ll keep that in mind the next time you come ranting about stupid people,” he promises. “If it was bad for a Fire Princess to slap people with a fan, I imagine doing so as Fire Lord would start a whole new war.”

“I only did that once,” she protests. “And after the blistering my ears got from Mom and Dad, I’ve always thought twice before wanting to do it again.”

His lips quirk in a small smile. She leans in for a kiss, savoring the taste of him. People see Kenji and think stiff, awkward, humorless. It’s true, on the surface, but she thinks she can pride herself on seeing past that.

The door opens. Ursa finishes the kiss before she turns to face the newcomer. Beside her, Kenji shifts into a crisp salute. “Fire Lord Zuko,” he says formally.

“General Kenji,” Dad says with a nod. “They’re waiting for you on the dais.”

Kenji bows. He gives her hand one quick squeeze before he leaves, the door shutting quietly behind him. Ursa clasps her hands in front of her, waiting patiently as Dad looks her up and down. “It’s not too late to change your mind, you know,” she says after the silence has gone on for a moment too long.

“The Fire Nation needs someone strong and vigorous to lead it,” he says. “Someone who’s level-headed and has a clear sense of morals. I can’t think of anyone better than you.”

“You just want to enjoy your retirement,” she teases. “The whole ambassador thing actually is code for ‘go to Ember Island and sleep all day.’”

“You caught me,” he says with a solemn nod. “I’ll hand over the crown and then vanish into the sunset. Your mother won’t be enraged or anything.”

“Oh, you know you’ve done wrong when you’ve gotten Mom upset,” Ursa says, sharing a grin with him. “She’ll find you and then use you as target practice in the throne room.”

“Guess I shouldn’t run off, then,” Dad says. The gong sounds again outside, and his face turns serious. “We should be going outside soon. Everyone’s waiting.”

“Yeah,” Ursa says. She looks down at her hands, a sudden wave of shivery nerves seizing her. “Dad, how did—how do you do it? I’m not even coming off a hundred-year war, but I’m scared. What if I _cause_ another hundred year war? What if people hate me or they try to kill me or—”

He grasps her shoulder firmly with one hand and places a finger over her lips with the other hand, stopping the flood of words. “One, if they try to kill you, I have full faith that you can stop them. Two, you can’t please everyone; the best you can hope for is to be just and fair, and you trust that people with sense will see the right in what you do. Third, you’re not going to start a hundred-year war, because I like to think I raised you with more sense than to exterminate a whole culture of people. Unless you _really_ hate your cousin Tenzin or something, I don’t think we have to worry about that.”

“I don’t hate him,” she says against his finger.

“Good,” he says, removing his finger. “Then you’ll do fine.”

She takes a deep breath. “Okay,” she says. “Okay.” She raises her chin. “If I trip and fall, it was completely on purpose.”

“Of course,” he says. “But you won’t. Just like we rehearsed it. I’ll pass the crown to the Fire Sage, you’ll kneel in front of him, facing the people, and he will crown you. And then it will be done.”

“I have to give a speech first, though, and then make it through everything afterwards,” she reminds him.

“Well, yes, that,” he says. “I think I made my speech about honor and a new world or something. I can’t really remember, but it’s documented somewhere, I’m sure.”

“There was definitely honor in it,” she says. “I looked it up.”

“Oh,” he says. “I’m not surprised. I hope I lived up to it, whatever it was.”

“You did,” she says softly.

“And you will too. Come here, dragon princess,” he says, and she falls into his warm embrace where he holds her for a moment. “Let’s go before they start kicking the walls down.”

She laughs and straightens up. He smiles down at her, old and proud.

((()))

She doesn’t trip. The words are a blur, but she remembers the firm weight of the crown as the Fire Sage places in her hair, the cheers of her people, the proud smiles of her family. Mom and Dad, Kenji and Iroh, the five of them together forming three generations of the Fire Nation royal family. There are books and books going back ages that trace the intricate ancestry and nobility of her bloodline, but these people around her are the ones that matter most.

After the coronation comes the festivities, and Ursa finds herself greeting her extended family and friends both old and new. The Kyoshi Warriors have come out in full force to greet her—Aunt Suki, old but still active as ever; Ty Lee, with that same bright outlook on life; Inora and Michiko, hand-in-hand; and her old year-mates, Nadekasa, Qingan, and Yufan. The Kyoshi garb has evolved just a little bit to adapt with the times, but it’s still that familiar green and black, a refreshing contrast to Fire Nation red. “We’ll keep coming here as long as you need us,” Qingan tells her. “You’ll be too busy to protect yourself, and I bet you’ve gotten rusty, anyway.”

“Never!” Ursa declares. “But I’m honored to have you as part of my guard. The Kyoshi Warriors are welcome friends of the Fire Nation, now and forever.”

After a while, she moves on. Lin greets her with a tight, bone-crushing hug that Ursa returns. “I wish your mother could have been here,” Ursa says to her. “She would have livened up this party, I’m sure.”

“Yeah, fancy parties really weren’t Mom’s style,” Lin says. She’s dressed in in a beautiful pearl gray robe, her hair curled into a neat bun that highlights her features. “She would’ve been proud of you nonetheless. We’ve gone a long way from hunting down rogue criminals together, haven’t we?”

“Those were some good years,” Ursa admits. “And you’re not too bad yourself, you know, Chief Beifong.”

“Well, someone had to do it,” Lin says with a shrug. “Republic City needs someone responsible and intuitive—”

“—and amazingly modest—” Ursa says, grinning.

“—to take the job. And who else but a Beifong?”

“Who else indeed,” Ursa agrees. “How long are you staying in the Fire Nation?”

“My ship’s leaving at the end of this week,” Lin says. “Are you busy tomorrow?”

“Probably, but I’ll make time. My rooms at eight tomorrow morning?”

“Hideously early, but I’ll make it work. We’ve got a lot to catch up on. I’ll bring the honey?”

“I’ll have the tea ready. See you there then,” Ursa says.

Aunt Katara and Uncle Sokka come together, both of them in proud Water Tribe blue. Uncle Sokka greets her with a thump on the back, while Aunt Katara is more stately about it, giving her a hug. “Little Ursa, all grown up!” Uncle Sokka declares. “How’s Zuko taking it? Is he having a heart attack out of sheer pride or something?”

“Agni, I hope not,” Ursa says, making a face. “That would be ten kinds of horrible if Dad had a heart attack now. How have you been, Uncle Sokka, Aunt Katara? I’ve been wanting to go back to the South Pole at some point for the winter festival, but it might be a while before I can make it.”

“Don’t worry about it, Ursa,” Aunt Katara says with a quiet smile. “You’re needed here.”

“Yeah, and Katara’s plenty busy,” Sokka adds. “The new Avatar’s just a kid, but she is _powerful_. Katara was teaching her about water whips the other day and she almost blew my head off!”

“You sound very excited about that,” Ursa says bemusedly.

“Reminds me of the good old days. Who couldn’t use a little death-defying thrill to wake you up in the morning? Anyway, she’s awfully feisty. I bet you’d like her.”

“I’ll definitely try to meet her next time I come down south, then,” Ursa promises.

She talks with them for a little while longer before Dad brings Aunt Kiyi to greet her, and Ursa hastily stops the other woman from bowing. “Wow,” Aunt Kiyi says, looking around with wide eyes. “This is a lot fancier than I expected.”

“Well, it’s a coronation, you can’t get much fancier than that,” Ursa says. “How’s the school, Aunt Kiyi? Any promising new blood for the next generation of theater?”

“I’ve got a couple new stars rising,” Aunt Kiyi says. “I’ve been working with a couple writers, and there’s one whose work I think you’ll particularly enjoy. Her latest draft moved me to tears with the poignancy of its writing.”

“I’m sure your troupe will breathe life into it,” Ursa says. “I can’t wait to see it next time I’m in Republic City.”

“Actually, we could bring the troupe here,” Aunt Kiyi says, looking at her with a tentative expression. “I was thinking it was about time for a Fire Nation tour, anyway. It’s been far too long since we’ve done a proper visit to the islands.”

“Really!” Ursa says, pleased. “Well, then, I’ll be happy to see anything you have to show.”

“I as well,” Dad says. “Kiyi, if you want, I’m sure we can reserve the Royal Theater for your troupe to perform for the people of the capital…”

Ursa leaves them to their planning and moves on, sifting through the crowds with conversational grace. She talks to people she’s met on her journey from Republic City to Capital City, political colleagues and personal friends alike. Tenzin and Pema bring a toddling Jinora to see her, and Ursa can’t help but be struck by the solemnity in the young girl’s eyes. She takes after her father, Ursa thinks, and she wishes them the best of luck in both parenthood and administration of Air Temple Island. Bumi’s wearing the colors of a commander now, and she congratulates him on his promotion. Kya, sporting Fire Nation red, greets her with a hug, and they talk briefly about Kya’s travel plans for the year after that. “You know, once I make my way to the ruins, I think I might go back to the South Pole,” she says.

“Really?” Ursa asks, intrigued.

“Yeah,” Kya says. “Might as well keep Mom company. I’m getting old, anyway. Plus, no place like home, right?”

“That’s right,” Ursa agrees softly.

They chat for a linger while longer about the ancient volcanic ruins before Ursa extracts herself from the conversation, making her way back to the main pavilion. Dad’s there as well, apparently having finished his conversation with Aunt Kiyi and taking a break from socializing for now, and he looks up as she sits down next to him with a little groan. “You okay?” he asks.

“Just a little overwhelmed,” she says. “It’s a lot of people.”

He tilts his head to look at her. “Good people, though.”

“The very best,” she says with a smile. “Family.”

He smiles, soft and a little sad. “I wish your Uncle Aang and Aunt Toph could’ve been here. Your Uncle Iroh, too.” He’s quiet for a moment. “It’s strange to think that our time is almost over.”

“Not over yet,” Ursa protests. “You and Mom are both going to live for years.”

He turns to look at her. “Of course,” he says quietly. “But it’s time for your generation to take the reins now and be the guides to the new. Not that you haven’t been doing that already, but…”

“But it’s official now,” Ursa murmurs, feeling the weight of the crown on her head.

He leans forward and grasps her hand tightly. “Your generation is going to do just fine,” he says. “ _You’re_ going to do just fine.”

Ursa studies him for a moment before nodding—slowly at first, and then stronger, with more conviction. “Yeah, we are,” she breathes.

Above them, the sun sets and the moon rises, another cycle complete. The stars shine as they watch over the gathered festivities, burning bright and eternal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! I wrote this thing in what, nineteen days? Gosh. This ended up being approximately 30k longer than I thought it would be and a _lot_ more broad in scope. I am honestly quite bemused that I ended up covering a lot of the topics that I did, although there was also a lot that, by the nature of the structure of this fic, I had to leave out. I might go back and fill in the blanks at some point in another fic, or I might do some interquel stuff, or some Krew/Gaang interactions. We'll see what grabs my imagination enough.
> 
> If you made it this far, thanks for reading! Leave a comment? I'd love to know what you think.


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